


Living is a Gamble, Loving is Much the Same

by Surimicrabsticks



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series, persona - Fandom
Genre: Bordering on Stockholm Syndrome, Characters are in their late twenties, Claustrophobia, Dark, F/M, Kidnapping, Mystery, Reader can't catch a break, Rollercoaster story, Suspense, Thriller, Violence, car crashes, darker timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-13 12:09:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21494071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Surimicrabsticks/pseuds/Surimicrabsticks
Summary: You arrived at your apartment door, feeling drained from the long day you had. You searched for the keys in your pockets.Then stopped. Someone was standing close behind you.Before you could turn around, you already lost vision.
Relationships: Arsene (Persona Series)/Reader, Arsene/Kurusu Akira/Reader, Kurusu Akira/Reader, Persona 5 Protagonist/Reader
Comments: 68
Kudos: 238





	1. Still a fan

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language so bear with me ^^;;

You woke up with your jaw hurting. A gag had been forcibly fixed into your mouth. The drone of wheels on asphalt penetrated dimly through the carpet upon which you laid.  
  
You felt your heart in your throat. Struggled against the binds. The world presented itself pitch black and you understood to be laying in the trunk of a moving vehicle.  
  
Only God would know if there was something else than perversion behind this. You, some forgotten art school graduate in their late twenties, had been targeted to _actual kidnapping_.  
  
Ignorance fueled your panic. You started praying, begging and apologizing to every god that came to mind.  
  
Miss Hoshino’s smiling face flew to mind.  
  
  
~  
  
  
_‘Y/N! It’s so good to see you again!’ Miss Hoshino chirped. You stood at her door. Usual place, usual time. You had been doing cleaning at the old lady’s place for a few years by now._  
  
_She was like a mouse, so thin and feeble you worried you could accidentally trample over her at some point._  
  
_Part of the routine was having coffee before business. The two of you never kept to the ten minute-rule, and often found yourselves doubling over with laughter._  
  
_‘And even though it was a disaster a year before, he came saying he wants to try again!’ Miss Hoshino said, shaking her head. The guy in question was a past date of hers from a few decades ago._  
  
_‘Sounds like he doesn’t have much self-respect.’ You agreed._  
  
_‘Right? There should be plen-ty of women willing to walk over him, but I’m not like that!’ Miss Hoshino swatted with her hand, as if to get the stench of weird people out of the air. You giggled._  
  
  
~  
  
  
You could hear raindrops starting to fall on the metal layer above you. Thinking about good times made for a nice distraction. Miss Hoshino was a fun person to be around with. You recalled the other times you had coffee with her.  
  
  
~  
  
  
_‘The arts, how have they been going for you lately?’ Miss Hoshino asked. You held your gaze to the cup in your hands. She did not mean for it, but the question stung._  
  
_‘Good…though I feel weird about last commission. You know, that whole family portrait.’ You said._  
  
_‘Ohh the wife’s birthday present!’_  
  
_‘Yeah that one, I got every member’s face right except hers…’_  
  
_In the umber of your coffee, you saw the husband, acting in discomfort._  
  
_‘My client…he assured me it was fine. Said his wife would have rather wanted her children accurately portrayed than otherwise. Her birthday was near. I didn’t have any room for corrections...’ You exerted your grip on the cup. ‘Perhaps he should have rejected the piece altogether.’_  
  
_‘Don’t be so hard on yourself Y/N. You worked on and off that piece for three months!’_  
  
_‘It was her birthday! How can I not get her face right?’ You laid a hand over your eyes. Even then the image of your client consoling you stuck._  
  
_‘Hey, you got paid. So it must have been fine. Really, don’t let it bother you so much.’ You tilted your hand to meet Miss Hoshino’s smile. A smile that said you shouldn't seek out trouble if it hadn't befallen you already._  
  
  
~  
  
  
The side of your face felt irritated by the short pile carpet. The rain’s clattering kept invading your hearing, making you feel smaller than ever. You needed to keep thinking happier thoughts.  
  
  
~  
  
  
_There was dampness underneath your armpits and it was the umpteenth’s time you dragged your arm across your forehead. Cleaning bathrooms was always such an undertaking. Miss Hoshino was on the phone in another room. You’ve never heard her tone so angry._  
  
_Not your business. Keep working._  
  
_As you wiped at the tiles, it became harder to ignore your curiosity. She was near yelling by now._  
  
_‘I knew it! I just knew you weren’t actually interested! How dare you?! The money is going to charity! You’re being excruciatingly selfish you hear me?!’_  
  
_A heavy silence followed. She must have hung up. Footsteps were coming your way._  
  
_‘He’s not my son…’ She mumbled._  
  
_You halted your wiping and looked behind your shoulder. Miss Hoshino leaned on the doorframe and had her brows furrowed._  
  
_‘Recently…I’ve made up a testament, in case anything should happen to me.’ She explained. ‘All of it will go to charity. The fortune I’ve made with Dress4you so far hasn’t always been made in the most ethical way.’_  
  
_You didn’t know how to respond. This was so sudden. Miss Hoshino usually never talked about the fashion company she used to be founder and CEO of. You wouldn’t have figured that a lady living so small and humbly would have had a history of running an international fashion empire, had she not told you before. The small woman was in fact a magnate._  
  
_‘But somehow along the way…I’ve had a change of heart. I quit ties with our cheapest manufacturers, raised the overall salary of my personnel and made more unprofitable decisions like that. It was surreal, how my view on handling the company just…switched. Three years later, I decided to retire from it all and left the rest in charge of my former assistant Akio. My son is still furious about that.’_  
  
_Then she smiled._  
  
_‘Come to think of it, it must have been when those Phantom Thieves were still around!’_  
  
_Your eyes widened._  
  
_‘No way! You think they...?’ you stuttered. It was ten years ago that the Phantom Thieves of Hearts were this huge phenomenon. Miss Hoshino broadened her smile._  
  
_‘Still a fan, aren’t you?’_  
  
_You thought you glimpsed something when your old friend's sleeves shifted some. Bruises?_  
  
_No, must be a trick of the mind._  
  
_‘Always!’ You answered._  
  
  
~  
  
  
You noticed there wasn’t any more traffic sound coming from the environment around you. Where were you? You felt so many bumps and turns…A forest perhaps. There was no clue as to the time neither.  
  
Not every moment spent with the old lady was as pleasant.

  
~  
  


_‘Please, just accept it! Nothing would make me happier!’_  
  
_You couldn’t. Not now, not ever. Between the two of you, on the table, laid a cheque with way too many zeroes behind the comma._  
  
_‘Miss Hoshino, please. This is weird.’ You felt dirty. Having your old friend offer you a huge sum of money just so you could have for what she perceived was ‘A justified way of life’._  
  
_‘Y/N, please think about yourself for once!’ The old lady begged. ‘Wouldn’t it be nice to quit your cleaning so you could focus more on art? When did you ever have the time to fully enjoy yourself? I cannot bear to see how you struggle in getting by!’_  
  
_‘Miss Hoshino, I like the way things are! Don’t think of me as someone you need to fix. It’s insulting!’ Heat burned beneath your cheeks. She was right, infuriatingly so. It was true that life consisted of keeping the meter alive by doing cleaning jobs and art commissions. But it was your life to deal with, and yours alone._  
  
_After that, you cleaned her house without saying a word to her. Time was slow and you kept sensing how Miss Hoshino did not know what to do with herself._  
  
  
~  
  
  
You really gave her a rough time back then. Why did that have to be your last encounter with her? _Idiot_. You should have apologized…  
  
The car came to a halt.  
  
Your whole body tensed. Footsteps were nearing. A click sounded. The trunk lid elevated and you were met with a night sky full of stars, and more importantly the silhouette of your captor leaning over you.  
  
‘I see you’ve woken up.’ The voice was that of a male. Fear had you stunned as he came closer. ‘I’m truly sorry. I had expected you to come to at our destination. You would have felt less claustrophobic.’  
  
The night air was cold. You were cold. His arms picked you up and soon you were pressed against your captor’s chest in a bridal style gripping. Tremors overtook you. There were trees everywhere. A clouded moon. A captor invading your personal space.  
  
He began moving you towards the only source of light: the windows of what looked like a small wooden cottage.  
  
You absolutely did not want to be transported like some object towards some unknown destination.  
  
Towards a purpose that was to be had with you.  
  
You began your struggling.  
  



	2. Rabbit's Hutch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou so much for the kudos and comments. I feel both happy and pressured hahaha.  
Seriously don't expect too much of this. English is not my first language and I could use a good beta.  
To me this is more a self-indulgent piece than a story. Even I don't know where this is going, really.
> 
> But I feel motivated to continue, and I thank you for that :)

"Cut that out." the man remarked in annoyance.

You damn wouldn't. Today was not the day you would meet your end. Even though your wrists were bound behind your back, and your ankles couldn't move apart. You kept bringing your body to new heights of exhaustion in your struggling.

"Really, you're making this difficult for yourself."

It was too dark to make out his face. He kept his grip fixed, as if you were fighting a beartrap.

You let out a muffled scream through the cloth in your mouth. A sense of hopelessness clawed at your insides.

The door came into view. His lips were at your ear.

**"Stop. Struggling."**  
  
Both the threat in his tone and your exhaustion made you cease your movements. You heard your heart between your ears as he opened the door. The light from the windows shyly revealed some parts of your captor's visage. His jawline was smooth like that of an elf. The ends of his short hair curled.

You couldn’t see the rest of his face, but you imagined he could be handsome.

It was a hopeless situation, but to die at the hands of someone attractive was the least consolation you could have. Things would hopefully feel less…bad.

Though it was a miserable way of coping, for sure.

He opened the door.

The inside of the place revealed to be a rather cozy interior.  
  
Like any vacation home, the furnishing was kept to the bare necessities with here and there an artistic touch. A small white cloth draped over the height of a dated couch. There was an embroidery on it with two chickadees meeting on a twig.

Similar pieces laid on the coffee table and small dinner table nearby.  
  
More pixellated birds, pinetrees and deers that reflected the outside world.

A large piece of wood hung on one of the grey brick walls. In the center of it was a discoloration. The game that was to be showcased had been taken off.

He put you down on the couch, making you lay on your side and face the room from a low perspective.

He walked off to the other side of the coffee table, seemingly regarding you more of an object than a human being. You saw him fling his leg over the other when he sat himself down on another chair. Were those block heels?  
  
You moved your gaze towards the ceiling. You tried losing yourself in its wooden pattern. Tried escaping into it.

"Yes, I got the package." he answered his phone.

...package. By a word of code you were reduced to a package.  
  
You heard him make a soft denigrating laugh.

"Oh no. That's not how I do business. I've showed you the picture and location. If I don't get half of the transaction right now, I won't bring it to you for the other."

His words were calm and unbending. The person on the other line however, sounded angry and impatient.

"Well, I'm the one who has it. As long as it's in my possession, it's up to me to decide whether or not I dispose of it."

You shut your eyes at that last sentence.

"It doesn't make me less competent if it's my first transport in organic materials. You wanted me because I'm good at what I do. I'd like to have you stick to that idea. If I don't see my payment in less than an hour, the deal is off."  
  
So…he was a thief, originally?

He clicked off the call. Something shuffled. You decided you were too curious and shifted your head to look at his face, but it was obscured by the newspaper he began studying.

The phone on the edge of the seat buzzed shortly. His gloved hand picked it up to see what it notified.

"Well…aren't they eager to have you delivered? That was fast."

You realised after a few seconds that those words were for you.

"You're in luck."

He moved down the newspaper. His smile was small and ironically apathetic. His soft black hair curled in many directions. If you were asked to guess his ancestry, you’d say he was a Japanese man with French roots. His eyelashes were long and gave edge to his grey uncaring eyes. His features were refined, elf like. He was as handsome as he was dangerous.

But what shocked you more, was that the man seemed your age, in his late twenties. You couldn't imagine yourself coming to the point of kidnapping someone for money, and happily telling the victim how they're lucky to be alive over the simple fact that you were good at making deals.

This man had become cruel and the only way you could answer his smile was with a look of disbelief.

He laid the newspaper beside him and walked towards you again. Every step felt imposing. He knelt down and tilted his head a bit so you were at eye level. You stopped breathing.

He had no problem keeping you in an eye lock. It wasn’t a show of openness or anything of the extrovert. It was the animalistic push of showing who was in power and who very much was not.

He brought his hand to your face. You flinched as he simply undid the gag.

"Let’s get the ropes off of you. I was thinking of letting you acclimate first, but oh well…"

You wanted him to distance himself. Moreover, you scared yourself over the fact how it was strangely thrilling that such a handsome and dangerous man was in close contact with you. How could a pair of grey eyes be so fierce and mesmerizing at the same time? What the fuck was wrong with you? He brought himself over your back, and you felt your knees and arms loosen from their bonds.  
  
After that, he stepped back and gave you space so you were able to lift yourself into a sitting position. Everything ached. Your head swam.

"t-This place is a short stop, isn't it?", you asked.

"Well perceived." he said, still wearing that easygoing smile. You wanted to tear it off.

He took seat again on the chair across the coffee table. You noticed he wasn’t only being casual, but also making it clear you wouldn't be able to escape, no matter what you tried. He wouldn’t have unbound you otherwise. You weren’t any freer of it.  
  
The lamps were probably pre-installed to an anti-burglary mode, so they automatically shone at night. It was just the two of you here.

"Tomorrow, we take off at nine. I suggest you go try to sleep in an hour so you'll be well-rested. We have a long journey ahead of us. Feel free to read a book, shower, watch tv, chat with me, do a puzzle, or whatever. Just know that outside is off-limits."  
  
The door was locked and he had your phone confiscated. He isolated you like one would do a new pet.

"Also, I suggest you don't misbehave. It would make the difference between a seat next to me in the car, or ending up bound in the dark again."

You shot him a disbelieving glare.

"I know, it's no fun zone. So, don't make things difficult for yourself, okay? You might even earn yourself a finely brewed coffee in the morning."

The walls felt like they closed in on you ever so slightly. But the memory of an old friend was in the back of your mind. You promised to apologize.

This strange, dangerous person might be treating you like some hutched rabbit, but rabbits could be resourceful.  
  
You once had them yourself when you were younger. You gave them as much space, food and love as you could. But within a week of having them, they escaped in a way you still couldn’t figure out to this day.  
  
\-------------  
  
The grandfather clock in the corner of the room ticked the time away. You saw yourself in its reflection. You sat on the couch as if you were some friend’s guest on any other day. How wrong of an assumption that would be.  
  
He never seemed to notice, or did not care whenever you rested your eyes on him while he was reading his newspaper. His brows were knitted in concern over its contents. It made you wonder how he could have a care for general news, when his morals were so out of place.  
  
You stood up from the couch. No reaction from him.  
  
You scanned your eyes across the bookshelves. The environment was so hauntingly innocent in contrast to your situation. There were books on local birds and attractions. Also classic literature and a bit of children’s. On the lower shelves there was the general combination of monopoly, Connect Four, playing cards and some puzzles. There was fun for a whole family, were they to reside here.  
  
Out of the corner of your eyes, you inspected the windows. They had opening mechanisms on them. The glass was a single layer and seemed breakable. Your captor probably had the car keys on his person. It wasn’t really an option to run off into the woods with the dangerous wolves and bears living nearby.  
  
You were thankful to be able to walk around, not bearing the additional stress of being physically restrained this time.  
  
But being tired and on edge continued to wear on your psyche.  
  
He didn’t seem to mind, when you thoroughly inspected the kitchen (the knives were sharpened), or decided to walk off into a small hallway. Large silhouettes of whispering trees danced across the walls. The branches reminded you of large spider legs.  
  
There was another door to the outside. Locked, of course. The windows at the sides couldn’t be opened.  
  
You wandered up the creaking stairs and expected him to go after you, because you kept distancing yourself. But it was allowed. There was his conviction that you wouldn’t escape or overpower him.  
  
Upstairs, there was a bedroom in much the same style as the living room underneath. Surely, you could be heard from downstairs with how creaky the floor was. You opened one of the windows and let the cold wind wash over you. It felt freeing. Hopeful. You peaked your head out and saw how easy it'd be to break a leg once you landed yourself from this height. Oh, but how it inviting it was...  
  
You sat yourself on the edge of the kingsized bed and mulled things over. The biggest problem wasn’t breaking out or calling for help.  
  
It was getting those car keys.  
  
You had to bring yourself in close contact to him at some point, if you were even hoping to get out of this place alive. You recalled him laying his coat over his chair. Perhaps they were in one of the pockets.  
  
You wondered if he was silently playing with you, if that was the reason for his losing your restraints in the first place. You could still decide to run off into the woods by opening up the window in the living room downstairs. Maybe running off would give you a bigger chance at freedom than trying to get his car keys off him. Because either idea was madness.  
  
What was impulsive? What was smart?  
  
You inspected the bathroom nearby. Perhaps a surprise attack would be the best course of action. He already acted like he was safe, you could use that to your advantage.  
  
You saw yourself in the mirror. You held your hands on the sink. They trembled the more you thought about it. Your reflection looked so tired. There was so much darkness beneath your eyes. Tears sprung free.  
  
You were no killer. And you did not want to leave this place with someone wounded. It wasn’t in your nature.  
  
You stifled your sobbing with your hand.  
  
After what felt like half an hour, you finally calmed down.  
  
You walked downstairs, towards his company. He sat in his chair like before, at the last few pages of his paper. He had the television on a low volume. Apparently he liked the rush of the noise.  
  
You reclaimed your place at the couch. Drew your knees up so you could rest your chin on them. For now, comfort was something to be either forced, or feigned.  
  
"I suppose I can’t have a name for you, can I?" you said while keeping your eyes on the screen. It was your average quiz-for-money show. He said earlier that it was okay to chat.  
  
"You can choose for me." The black-haired man said with trite.  
  
After much thought, you summed:  
  
"…Jérome…Bernard…Arsène… You strike me as someone with French roots."  
  
You jumped from his sudden laughter.  
  
"You could say I have part of the Frenchman in me...or used to have." You didn’t get how this was funny to him. You did not get him in many ways. As if he was switching masks from moment to moment.  
  
Sometimes he seemed truly considerate in giving you as much freedom as he could in his position as a captor. It made you think of the rabbit’s hutch you recalled earlier. It wasn’t a natural way of living for them, but you did your best to make it agreeable.  
  
Other times he was cold and dominant, like he was when he set the rules and threatened to put you in ropes if you did anything disagreeable.  
  
And oh, there was also the fact he snatched you from your home for a good buck.  
  
He was awful, attractive, unpredictable, a wildcard...  
  
the name was on the tip of your tongue.  
  
Your eyes skimmed the backs of the many classics resting on the bookshelves. One stood out by its overly-dramatic typography. The letters were golden, and full of swirls. As if a ribbon gymnast had cast them upon its dark canvas.  
  
_Arsène Lupin, Gentleman-Thief by Maurice Leblanc_  
  
"Arsène...I’ll call you that." You turned your head to see whether he was looking at you in his listening. He was. This time his smile had warmth. The lamps in the room reflected a burning orange in his eyes.  
  
Your heart fluttered like the complete imbecile it was and you flitted your head back to the television. You had to get out of here ASAP.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I had the title of that book ALL wrong! It was in fact:
> 
> Persona5 Protagonist: Asshole-Kidnapper who prolly has a palace of his own by now
> 
> by Surimicrabsticks


	3. Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware guys, this chapter is pretty intense o_o  
This plot bunny is so dark, but it wants out and I can’t stop it.

It was eleven o clock, and Arsène was quite the chatter. The guy turned out to be a true coffee fanatic. Verbal epistles about Moka Pots, Mexican Altura and the _true_ Turkish cooking method ("Yes, you _cook_ the pulverized beans, not brew it!") flew past your head. You weren’t going to remember a thing, but lord was his enthusiasm tangible.  
  
He once put all of his savings in starting up a café, only for it to go up in dust within the year. The startup was troubled by the economic crisis at the time. Unjust rumors of him having a criminal background pushed him further into a corner. Before he knew it, debts were made. He saw his dream slowly extinguish into bankruptcy.  
  
_That must have been crushing_.  
  
You knew what it meant to hit rock-bottom through your passion. Your painting.  
  
Pressure doesn’t even grasp the intensity of it.  
  
Constantly having to explain the prices of your commissions. Not breaking even. Acting like your bank account didn’t exist. Crying at the employment agency. Being fearful of falling ill, because you couldn’t possibly bear any more uncertainties…  
  
You remember suddenly breaking down crying when you first began cleaning at Miss Hoshino’s place. She let you confide in her, and in turn, gave you a lecture. You hated how she didn’t just let you vent…  
  
But, where there was compassion, there was tough love. It was something the missus gave you without a moment’s hesitation.  
  
_"The worst kinds of people, are those that think themselves hopeless. It may sound harsh, especially to those who have it difficult by circumstance, or even nature. But the fact remains that you ARE limiting yourself, from the moment you’re convinced that things won’t work out. Don’t do yourself dirty like that."__  
  
_The words stuck with you, though it didn’t come easy to always see things from a logical standpoint. Life didn’t flow that way.  
  
You couldn’t reason away depression. Problems couldn’t magically disappear, when you said they only existed as a concept through human invention.  
  
But the words, they stuck. It did help to look at yourself from a distance from time to time. Mindfulness was an exercise that helped one in keeping hope. You reminded yourself that you were grateful that you could keep at painting, even if it couldn’t carry you to the humblest of mortgages._  
  
_You strongly suspected that the kidnapper sitting across from you, had lost a great deal of hope at some point. It may explain his actions in the present, but it doesn’t make it less of his choice, and how _wrong_ it was.  
  
You tried not to eye the opening mechanism of the window too much. As much as talking helped in calming your nerves, it didn’t change the fact that you were still being held here against your will.  
  
"Will you try again at some point? With the café?"  
  
He blinked in surprise at your question. You wanted to add: _After your deserved time in prison_, but weren’t one to add alcohol to fire. He averted his gaze, studying the grandfather clock.  
  
"I don’t know, to be honest..." He surprised you likewise, showing his vulnerability like that. You thought further about the affair.  
  
"You’re scared that you’ll fail again. But as you said, it was bad timing. Surely there would be no rumors at play if you started somewhere else."  
  
A bitter smile crept up the corners of his mouth. He wasn’t waiting for advice on your part per se.  
  
"True…I am scared of failure, otherwise I would have tried again. But I’m too deep into this thieving business now. Even if I were to start shop in, let’s say Hokkaido, there’s still the possibility of me getting recognized by one of my colleagues, or commissioners."  
  
"You’d be on the run again, having new rumors following you."  
  
His silence was confirming.  
  
You became worried over how invested you were in his story. It was important to remember that the guy was an asshole who did not owe you a single reason for his actions towards you. You shouldn’t pry any further.  
  
"I feel like I should tell you about myself, but you already did your research, probably." You joked awkwardly.  
  
"True. There isn’t much I can ask you by now."  
  
Just when you were about to ask about the_ why _of your kidnapping, he added to his response:  
  
"It must be said though, I really like your portrait art. I’m commissioned to steal various known pieces for duplicators, but none really catch my fancy."  
  
You stiffened.  
  
You did not like it coming from him, but praise always brought forth a blooming in your chest. Praising your art was like praising part of your identity.  
  
"h-How so?" You couldn’t help asking. _He shouldn’t make you feel like this y/n. Stop talking. Stop listening._  
  
"I can see you paint from an eye of empathy, rather than precision...Do you chat with your models, while you paint? I swear I can see their aura."  
  
Your eyes widened at his open interest. Words failed you and you couldn’t help but turn your head towards the wall beside you, hinge it low in fluster.  
  
He guessed right. You did strive to bring forth a person’s personality in your paintings. It was why you preferred painting from live models, rather than pictures. You happily conversed with them, so you could paint from a place of connection.

  
None had hit the mark so well before, but it came from the mouth of someone who _shouldn’t have a say in it_. You shouldn’t get yourself happy over this. Art was a matter of the heart to you so this was dangerous territory.  
  
It was unnerving to realize you weren't only vulnerable in a physical way. You couldn't bear the way he was eagerly waiting for your response. You decided to shield yourself.  
  
"Yes...I chat with them. Most painters do, or else it'd be boring for both painter and model."  
  
You eyed the window again. You had to do something. You owed it to yourself and Miss Hoshino.  
  
You stood up, walked over to it.  
  
"Oh come on, don't deflect my praise. I know you’re proud of how you do your work by the reasons I just stated. You _are_ proud of your work, aren’t you?" You were, and wanted to ask him: _What about you?_  
  
"Well, thanks for the compliment then." You said curtly as you met yourself in the glass reflection. Behind that was a dark and unpredictable world of nature.  
  
"This room could use some fresh air." You excused. The tremor in your hands made it hard to move the mechanism more smoothly.  
  
"Go ahead." He said. Breathing became harder as his fake hospitality was reaching new levels of dreadful. You could feel his attentive eyes on your back.  
  
"If you are to go outside, I’ll be accommodating. You’ll be given a head start."  
  
_Of course he knew._  
  
"But know this: I will be after you, and there will be consequences."  
  
You couldn’t look behind you. He was giving you one last warning. But what scared you more was that he was laying things out as if you’d be at an advantage. Like this was some sort of game about to happen.  
  
Things would be so much easier if he just stopped you right now.  
  
_Don’t put me through this. You know I have to try._  
  
You jumped out of the window and made a run for it. Before you knew it, you had passed the car and found yourself running in an endless sea of trees. Never had the outside cold felt so freeing before.  
  
"Goddamnit!" you shouted. _You forgot to take a weapon with you!_  
  
The dazzling mess of treebranches and bushes kept flitting past you. The dim moonlight gave you little to no guidance in your path.  
  
Arsène was after you by now.  
  
For sure.  
  
Many branches attacked you in your flight, leaving you in marks on the face and tears in your clothes. That didn’t matter. As long as you found another road.  
  
You’d halt any passing car.  
  
You’d beg them to take you with them.  
  
You’d do about anything to get away from here. From this confusing man!  
  
Your breathing was so loud it was all you could hear.  
  
It wasn’t before long that the side of your waist began to cramp. Your legs became heavier with each desperate step. Only fear pushed you forward. Towards freedom.  
  
The amount of oxygen wasn’t enough for the exertion you demanded the untrained condition of your body. The stings in your side became so intense that they felt like knives. You sought support from a nearby tree and let yourself rest for as much you dared to allow.  
  
The ground was floating. Your jaw slackened with nausea.  
  
_God be with me please._  
  
You looked around. Nothing.  
  
_"Y/N…"_  
  
A hand made of ice gripped your heart. It was sin to hear your given name roll of his tongue in these dark surroundings.  
  
"You’ve had your breather. Let’s go back now, shall we?" He stepped into vision, into the moonlight. He smiled as if you were hopelessly wasting time, only entertaining him.  
  
Without thinking, you gave your soul in shouting _"FUCK YOU!"_, and took off. You’ve had it with his denigrating behavior. From the growing distance behind you, you swore you heard laughter. You did not want to think of those gloves, about why they were red. About how he was wearing them at all times.  
  
You ran forward with exhaustion, feeling like your legs were becoming less your own. Your head became lighter. You couldn’t go on like this forever.  
  
"aAAh!"  
  
The skin on the backside of your head snapped taut. He yanked you by the hair. His face was in front of you, making you submit back into his fistful.  
  
"I told you not to make things difficult for yourself." he whispered. His steel-colored eyes bore into yours. There was the feeling of soft leathered fingers, sliding along your jawline.  
  
"You’ve got fight in you…I respect that." You decided you were going to spit in his face, but before you got to that, he gripped you painfully by the arm. Squeezing your muscles to the bone.  
  
With the way he quickly dragged you along the way back, he made you prioritize your footing so you couldn’t kick or punch him as much. You then threw your weight to the ground, resisting him however you could. You were scared for your life. Your arm hurt like hell. And you were determined in getting your freedom. You screamed your lungs out.  
  
He halted. Said something.  
  
You couldn’t hear him through the pain and the noise of your making. You’d annoy him into giving it up on you if you had to!  
  
There was another sentence from him, but you did not care. _Rot in hell, you. _You could no longer stand being treated like some unmannered dog.  
  
He let go of your arm, and decided to do far worse.  
  
The warmth of blood flow rushed back to your arm with lurid pain. Suit, he enclosed his leathered hand over the nape of your neck. Not quite gripping it, but rather ghost over it. You were dumbfounded by the sudden lack of action there.  
  
But as soon as you tried moving away, he squeezed _hard_. You yelped.  
  
The more you resisted, the more he pressed on. The pain made it impossible to even _think_.  
  
You had to comply. Had to walk along. Tears fell from your eyes as you let him escort you in this disgusting, controlling way. The anger and distress that boiled within your chest was like a beast that wanted out of its cage. You wanted to rampage. Tear the stars from the sky. Punish God in some way.  
  
"…I don’t like this either." He said.  
  
His tone was vaguely minor.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t wish it upon anyone. The hand on the neck thing. A classmate jokingly did it to me when I was ten. He did not mean any harm by it, but the moment always stuck with me because of the powerlessness I felt.  
Sorry if the spooks are too intense, but I mean it when I say I’m writing what I feel like (￣▽￣*)ゞ


	4. Bonds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man was this a hard chapter to write. I kept editing stuff endlessly, and had to force myself to just upload the damn thing at some point.  
Writing from intuition instead of a plan has me correcting on a lot of things, trying to have things making sense and keep it engaging.
> 
> I'm happy for all the sweet comments you people give this story. Thankyou so much. How are you all doing in quarantaine?

It was mild weather outside. The whole of the sky wore the color of lead and milk. From up high, Tokio was like a motherboard having its conducts and connections eternally active. So were the people, who swarmed like ants through its seams.  
  
The sound of a scooter echoed abrasively, with its driver headed towards the outer and more peaceful neighborhoods.  
  
The man had a lively schedule of his own, consisting mostly of workouts, package deliveries and measuring his level at the track and field club. Weekends and after competitions were reserved for drinks and hangovers.  
  
What he would have given for a girlfriend though, especially now that he was nearing his thirties.  
  
He parked his scooter near an apartment complex, and walked off to it with package in arm.  
  
He eyed the young sprouts on the trees nearby.  
  
Couldn’t humans just, dunno, pollinate or something? Plants had it so much easier. They didn’t have to go through this tiring hassle of jiu jitsuing oneself through these social and awkward barriers.  
  
Though it was even more pathetic to compare oneself with plants.  
  
_Come on, spring has come! Another year, another gazillion chances, right? _the man thought to himself._  
  
_He pressed the doorbell._  
  
"Hello, who is this?"_ A female voice came from the speaker.  
  
"Delivery!"_  
  
"Oh, come on in!"_ The door to the stairwell went from its lock.  
  
_That voice sounded kinda familiar…_, the man thought at entering the elevator. He knew the complex was newly built and for well-off residents. One of his colleagues once trivia’d him that the noise reduction was so well done, people wouldn’t hear each other screaming between floors.  
  
He stepped out and saw the woman awaiting him at the door in the hallway.  
  
He walked forward, then stopped a good four meters across from her. Perturbed by whom he saw, or better yet, _recognized_. The woman widened her eyes.  
  
"r-Ryuji...?" She stammered.  
  
The man blinked a couple of times, checked the addressed on the package just in case:  
  
_Takamaki Ann,__  
  
_and blinked at her again in stupor.  
  
"a-Ann?"  
  
"Is that you, Ryuji?"  
  
He did not recognize her at first, but it was her alright, only ten years older. In his memory, she was always wearing two pigtails. So it was for the first time for sure that he witnessed all those voluminous locks hanging loose over her shoulders and back. Along with that, she sported a playful onesie speckled with a print of cat paws. Those mint-colored eyes were as beautiful as ever. Something Ryuji had never openly admitted.  
  
She started smiling widely.  
  
"Now _that’s_ a face I haven’t seen in a long time!"  
  
"Likewise! I see you don’t care much about looks when it comes to delivery!" Ryuji laughed. She looked down as if only now realizing her getup.  
  
"Oh shaddup! As if you’d shove yourself in a prom suit the moment you have delivery at your door!"  
  
"No arguing that. Still, it’s good to see you!" He meant the words as he handed her the package. Seeing Ann Takamaki’s face brought forth many old memories of adventures and close friendships. It seemed like a vague dream, saving the world way back then. Or maybe it was a dream?  
  
_Dude, stop staring at her face!_ Ryuji scolded himself internally. He really couldn’t believe all this.  
  
"Why don’t you come in for a bit, or I suppose you have to keep going?" Ann offered curtly, setting aside the package for later inspection.  
  
It was cute how she was containing her enthusiasm. Honestly, how could he blame her? Their friendship may have watered off after graduating, but this moment was so electrifying. It was as if an otherwise black and white world was regaining its color!  
  
"I could lose half an hour. Got only few packages left." He grinned.  
  
"Alrighty, chocolate mousse cake it is then!"  
  
"Huh?" Ryuji followed Ann through the door opening.  
  
It was so like her, finding any reason to go for sweets like that.  
  
~~  
  
Ryuji could see the reflection of the furniture in the lamination. Magazines on beauty and fashion stuffed her bookshelves. On this high level, the view over the city sure was something else too.  
  
Like it was just for them, that the sky subtly began to color from blue to something warmer. On the other couch across from Ryuji, Ann was openly relishing her cake.  
  
"We really did that right? The phantom thieving stuff. " Ryuji said. "Sometimes, I have to look up stuff on the internet to convince myself we didn’t make those things up."  
  
"It really has been that long..." Ann muttered. "Kamoshida’s palace is still giving me nightmares. _Oh my god_. I can talk about it!"  
  
"It sure was a crazy year." Ryuji agreed.  
  
The cake began to lose its flavor…  
  
As much as there were things that they could write off as a dream or something they had made up as teenagers, some things shouldn’t, no, _couldn’t_ be denied.  
  
Shiho’s suicide attempt.  
  
Akechi’s disappearance.  
  
The intensity of their despair, the birth of their rebellion.  
  
And the many risks their leader took in saving his teammates.  
  
Ryuji’s chest clenched at the memory of Akira. It has been five years since he last saw him.  
  
Losing friends was the normalcy of life. The older you became, the tighter the schedules, and the more different people’s perspectives became. But the way their friendship ended was way off.  
  
After graduation, Ryuji had stayed close to the former leader of the Phantom Thieves. Helped him set up that café of his few years later. The painting and timbering had been a memorable pastime. Morgana accidentally gained himself a few semi-permanent white spots. Damn cat couldn't learn to keep out of their way. And Akira knew to brew the best coffee to get them either started or motivated. Ryuji believed that at least the three of them would stay in contact.  
  
But that year, something in Akira…deteriorated.  
  
Next thing Ryuji knew, he got an automated voice informing him that his friend’s number was no longer in use! The café had been sold off and both his friends became intractable!  
  
No, he had to shake these thoughts off him.  
  
"You still in contact with Shiho?" Ryuji asked.  
  
"Yeah." she smiled. "Every week we meet up for walks."  
  
"You sound like old people." Ryuji teased. "You still in contact with the others? Futaba,Yusuke, Sojiro…"  
  
"Shiho and I visit the café few times a year…Sojiro hasn’t changed much. I believe he plans on publishing a cookbook on curry."  
  
"That’s amazing! I should come over and ask him about it sometime."  
  
Ryuji drew a short breath before daring, having his fork rather poke the cake than digging.  
  
"And…Akira?"  
  
She furrowed her brows. Saying his name aloud was like summarizing their crazy year as Phantom Thieves in a mere second. There was such weight to it.  
  
"Same as last time you asked. I didn't really hang out with him after high school, remember?"  
  
"Ah..."  
  
"To be honest, I don’t care much about him anymore. Remember he dated nine women at the same time?! That shit was scary, and I was among them!"  
  
"Yeah…_that_. Can’t wrap my mind around that still. Wasn't there also a teacher?" Ryuji felt it was always a topic too private to really ask Akira about that crazy dating period of his. For all he knew it could be some coping mechanism, developed to deal with all the delinquent rumors, and the pressure of being an actual thief of some sort. He really did take a lot on his person at the time, didn’t he?  
  
Ann gazed off. Great, he rubbed salt into the wound. She had loved Akira dearly once, maybe still does.  
  
"He sacrificed himself for us, more than once." she whispered.  
  
"A true madlad…"  
  
"Yeah, and don’t get me wrong, I still wish him best. I’m just not going to try and look for him anymore."  
  
It sounded like Ann had sort of forgiven their old friend. To a teenage boy, it was easier to treat love and life like the fantasy of a game.  
  
But fantasies don’t break falls, and Ryuji slowly saw the ice underneath Akira’s feet crack as they got older.  
  
"You okay Ryuji?"  
  
"...he was being such an asshole in the end."  
  
"What happened? I got from Sojiro you were last to talk to him."  
  
"Yeah, I didn’t hear from him for a whole month and decided to go to his place. I was gonna confront him. I’ll have you know he looked like total shit when he finally opened up. Dark circles under his eyes and all. Morgana wasn’t there either."  
  
Ann thinned her lips in listening.  
  
"He was being so secretive! His own room was suddenly off-limits. I saw tools lying around that didn’t have anything to do with gastronomy! Also said Morgana left a few weeks ago because they, I quote: "Didn’t need each other anymore." Can you believe that?!"  
  
"No way, _just like that?_ They were such close friends!" Ann exclaimed. This is total bullshit, she thought. Akira and Morgana were inseparable! Their bond went way deeper than merely scratching each other’s backs or so to say.  
  
Ryuji was unaware that his voice was rising. "We always relied on him, but he should have done the same with us! So I went and told him _just that!_" He wanted to bang his fist onto the coffee table.

  
There was such powerlessness to what was past, and what is present and Ann couldn’t stand seeing Ryuji in such heat over it.  
  
"Of course I’m going to notice he’s not well if he doesn’t contact me for over a month! He wasn’t answering my messages either!"  
  
"It must have been hard on him, " Ann answered in empathy. " I was surprised that the rumors about him were still ongoing when I got wind of them later. You’d think they would disappear after high school..."  
  
And she couldn’t help but picture it, to put herself in his shoes. To have herself put everything in her dream of modeling, only to have it torn to pieces by nasty stories sneaking through the many mouths of the spectators around her. Having her commissioners turn their back on her, not giving her any chance at proving her worth.  
  
_Akira…_  
  
"I should have _stayed_ when I came over that one time! Who knows what’s become of him now." Ryuji clenched his teeth. He couldn’t help feeling like somehow, he wasn’t there for him enough. The visit ended up with Ryuji screaming, and Akira being infuriatingly dismissive of absolutely anything that came out of his mouth. The whole thing was like punching a wall.  
  
And he should have kept punching!  
  
"Stop that Ryuji! You don’t owe him your guilt. _He_ neglected his contacts!"  
  
"He wasn’t well Ann! You should’ve seen him!" Ann had her arms folded.  
  
"You should see yourself right now. It’s been _years_. Yes, he did a lot for us in the past, but it doesn’t excuse his secret affaires, or how he didn’t care about you and Morgana in the end. Your friendship didn’t even die off naturally like with you and me! He switched phones and basically amputated everyone he cared for from his life." Her eyes began to glaze. "You should have seen Sojiro, pretending he wasn’t devastated...that asshole was like a son to him."  
  
Ryuji gaped at Ann’s outburst, but it made sense.  
  
Because if the Ann Takamaki he knew couldn’t stand anything, it was seeing someone else feel openly gripped by guilt, or struggle under any other emotional might _some other person_ had over them. She had seen more than enough of that shit in the past, and was having none of it right now.  
  
Akira was long gone, so Ryuji shouldn’t be so affected by him now.  
  
"Look…he probably doesn’t even remember our names anymore. Don’t give him so much power over you. It’s toxic." She pleaded.  
  
"I guess I’m still acting as his friend…" Ryuji lied. He still felt like Akira's friend, deep down. Ann probably did too.  
  
"So let’s stop talking about him." She sighed.  
  
That was easily done.  
  
Same couldn’t be said of the heart…  
  
For a person’s bond, whether great or small, good or bad, was one of attachment. It was why nearly no one could easily cut off, or forget the dynamic they had with others. To both Ann and Ryuji, Akira’s presence was like that of a shadow. Sometimes they wouldn’t notice much of it, and sometimes it was right in front of them. Making them ponder over what could have been.  
  
~~  
  
Ann and Ryuji exchanged phone numbers, and promised to see each other again soon. After leaving the complex, Ryuji made sure no one saw him, and stuck out his tongue towards the tree with the green sprouts. _Watch me! I too am in for some pollinating soon!_  
  
He stepped on his scooter, beginning his last deliveries.  
  
Then it dawned on him.  
  
Things would have been easy, no? If they found a palace of Akira’s at some point. Steal his treasure, and everything would have been normal again. His friend would return to being this confident, dependable and womanizing weirdo. The guy Ryuji held dear as a friend.  
  
He ground his teeth under his helmet. _Or I should have stolen that stick off his ass!_  
  
The sun was starting to set, elongating the shadows that graced the streetscape.  
  
Tree branches kissed one another to the subtle winds and the children that were playing earlier were starting to head homewards. Wondering what’s for dinner.  
  
The afternoon came to an end, and Ryuji’s heart never found closure.


	5. The Cat at the Window

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: This chapter contains a brief bit of masturbation by way of coping mechanism.
> 
> I'm still writing the story pretty much the way I feel like. But dang, so many kudos!  
Now I feel like that one Meowth meme: "Wow, I have a lot of people to disappoint." :'D  
I just write this shit on my phone whenever I got some time to kill, and edit the rest on my computer.
> 
> For real though, THANKYOU SO MUCH for sticking with me this far! I dig that :)

Consciousness was an unwelcome one, and crawled cruelly through the senses to make you once again aware of your circumstances.  
  
Refusing to open your eyes, you imagined you were in your apartment. About how you usually began your day.  
  
Your phone would be right next to you, alarming you to get up. You'd snooze for a couple of times before finally giving into the notion that there was work to be done.  
  
The curtains at your window would dimly lighten, and hint at how bright the sky had gotten. From the wall, a print of your favorite art piece "Woman with child" would greet you.  
  
Your eyes would linger at the work for a few seconds, appreciating the naked affection radiating from it, before heading towards the bathroom.  
  
After the usual showering, changing, breakfasting, tooth brushing et cetera, you'd bring yourself to the bathroom mirror. Look yourself in the eyes.  
  
_Today is going to be another good one. I'm going to try to be the best version of myself. Act and think out of sympathy, as much as I can.  
  
I've got this._  
  
You opened your eyes for real.  
  
Your wrists and ankles were bound again. Hemp rope was known to chafe a great deal when you fought against it. The irritation was visible. Tiny dark crusts of what had been blood droplets threatened to reopen if you weren’t being careful.  
  
You shifted some on the couch to get a look at the grandfather clock.  
  
It was six in the morning. _"We leave at nine."_ was what Arsène told you, when he was in good humour still.  
  
You did not want to recall yesterday night, but there was something in that memory that kept your mind occupied.  
  
~~  
  
_After dragging you back into this hellhole, he decided to put you back in ropes. There was the harsh feeling of his leg pressing in your back into the couch, pushing the air out of your lungs while he tightened the hemp fibers around wrists and ankles.  
  
You expected worse things to come. While he was at it, sweat broke out from your hairline. It was hard to breath. Your neck still hurt. He had mentioned consequences...  
  
You shut your eyes. If only your mind would too.  
  
He took his weight off you, stood before you. The silence of him made you open your eyes, not bearing his calm contemplation over these circumstances.  
  
You searched for his eyes. He looked away in thought.  
  
"w-What are you going to do with me?" You asked, wanting to prepare your mind. You were shaking.  
  
He looked at you again, and you briefly thought you saw something of sadness in his grey eyes. But who were you to judge in this height of tension.  
  
He brought himself to your level again.  
  
"You know what birds do when they're stressed out?" He asked calmly.  
  
You glimpsed at his body language. Didn't understand his behaviour. He had his arms leaning on his knees, hands resting at the caps as he squatted before you.  
  
Why didn’t he remain hostile?   
  
Perhaps...because you were his first kidnap, and probably posed the next stepping stone in his further steeling his personality.  
  
It wasn't unlikely that he could be having regrets.  
  
You hated to think the man was capable of having regrets. That he was human. You had the annoying tendency to search for the good in people, after all.  
  
"Those birds, they pluck at themselves. Hurt themselves because they don't know what else to do with their wild, racing minds..."  
  
You felt how he refrained from moving his hands. You swore you felt it.  
  
"That's what I see you doing, whenever I look at you."  
  
"..."   
  
"Would you look me in the eyes, please?"  
  
...sure. What did you have to lose.  
  
There was no eyelock this time. Nothing threatening of the sort. Just his request to listen and communicate.  
  
"This commission…there was an insane price on it. Colleagues were breaking out into fights over who would've taken up the job.  
  
Lots of them are brutes, who don't care much about their victim's mental or physical state. Some of them have even failed their commissions because they abused their victims to death. These jobs attract lots of sadists and perverts. They get to earn money for what they see as fun pastime."  
  
Your eyes hardened in anger.  
  
"And you're telling me you're different from them? Tell me I'm lucky?" You said hoarsely.  
  
Was he trying to manipulate you?  
  
He gazed at the floor in thought.  
  
"No...you would have been unlucky either way. Whether it was me or someone else, you would have been taken."  
  
Then regained eye contact. Smiled reassuringly.  
  
"But I can guarantee you, I'm mostly in this business because I enjoy stealing." Absentmindedly, he began to nip at the leather of his gloves with his fingers.  
  
"Money's a big factor too, of course. I'm not a sadist. Moreover, I feel motivated to live a nice retirement once all this is over with."  
  
You did not believe him, not entirely. Neither did you enjoy the fact that he slightly managed to ease your mind.  
  
"So when you asked what I was going to do with you, I thought: Nothing. I think I punished you more than enough just now."  
  
His fingers stopped nipping.  
  
"It is out of necessity alone, that I act cruelly."  
  
You were sure you felt it though, his want to touch you out of something else than necessity.  
  
"So don't go outside again."  
  
You understood the bird parallel. Your brain did tend to go to the worst places whenever you did not know what to expect. It was mentally suffering. Who wouldn't though, if they were placed in your shoes?  
  
But if he truly meant what he said about his intentions, then that meant that he was truly gentle with you as far the situation allowed for it. He wanted to ease your heart for if only a bit. Or so it seemed.  
  
He made way to the corridor, brought his fingers towards the light switch.  
  
"I think you'll believe me rather quickly, y/n."  
  
You kept silent. Remained wary of your own words.  
  
"Because of whom you named me after. I mean it when I say that I really enjoy stealing." He chuckled.  
  
He switched off the light.  
  
"Goodnight."  
  
He closed the door and you heard him going upstairs.  
  
The pain in your neck lingered.  
_  
~~  
  
So he did not have any intention of hurting you unless provoked. Seemed reasonable.  
  
But that didn't take away the fact that it's easier to say something like that, before facing the actual temptations. He was still in a position of power here, and couldn't predict how exactly provoking you'd become on your part.  
  
You stared at the window. Outside was so bright already. _I really am eating at my mind…_, you thought.  
  
Behind the glass, a cat came into view and ripped you out of your thoughts.  
  
It had a collar!  
  
Its bright eyes stared at you for a moment, then took in the rest of the room.  
  
Was it looking for food?  
  
Could this mean people were living nearby?  
  
It continued to stare at the door towards the corridor. As if it knew there were more people inside. It then laid down in the pose of a sfynx, and squeezed its eyes shut. Its belly rose and fell with calm breathing, like this was part of its home.  
  
You couldn't look away from the animal. There was something about it that made your heart feel at ease. It was nice having another soul near you that meant no harm. It simply kept you company.  
  
_Please don't leave too soon, little thing._  
  
The cat opened its eyes, looked you in the eyes. As if it heard your silent plea.  
  
~~  
  
Arsène came down an hour later. The cat left its spot. Neither of you spoke as he untied you. There was no eyecontact.  
  
It wasn't hate per se, you weren't good with hating on your part. To him, it was just a high paying job.  
  
It was rather...cold war.  
  
You made your way towards the corridor. Could really lose the torn clothes, soothe the rope marks...thoroughly inspect your neck for once.  
  
"There'll be omelette and coffee waiting for you once you've freshened up." He said towards your back. You nodded without looking behind.  
  
It was cold war indeed, sprinkled with some good weather cordiality. It made you want to break things. Maybe attack one of the pillar supports while you made your way upstairs.  
  
There was this Japanese saying that a woman's heart could be filled with snakes, if she wasn't treated well enough for some time.  
  
In the bathroom you found a set of your clothes, stolen from your apartment. You held your underwear in your shaking hands.  
  
You saw red. Wanted to scream. Release everything you'd been holding. Your mind was jumping places.  
  
There was Miss Hoshino's fading visage. The slight twitch in Arsène's hands. Snakes crawling your tired heart. His hard grey eyes forcing you to submit.  
  
Something hit you, making you slacken your grip on your underware.  
  
You'd do anything to soothe your shaken sanity...  
  
You eyed the shower cabin. Droplets glistened on the wall. The door was slightly ajar.  
  
It would help, wouldn't it? It would just be you...come to think of it, when was the last time you got yourself off?  
  
You shook your head, feeling your cheeks burn from the sinful idea.  
  
A healthy libido could disturb things to an even unhealthier extent between you and Arsène. Already were you dealing with this misplaced attraction you felt since first time you looked into your captor’s steel eyes.  
  
You moved out of your clothes. Stepped into the cabin. There was a feeling of theft to it. You couldn't pinpoint why. Especially since it was one of the few things you could freely execute by your own choice, for your own benefit.  
  
Perhaps because you'd be pulling something off that was intimate to you, in complete discretion.  
  
After this, he wouldn't have any more power over you than he already had. You wouldn't be apt to be unconsciously provoking one another much.  
  
You turned on the shower.  
  
Your heart was hammering in your chest. Southwards was the unmistakable aching. Either caused by stress, or your healthy libido playing up. Could be both.  
  
You worried your bottom lip. There was the memory of his hands at his kneecaps again, his broad shoulders, and the way he invaded your personal space whenever he deemed necessairy.  
  
You felt like a match that desperately needed to be lit. You needed to burn through all the oxygen in the room to exorcise those _fucking images of him doing things to you_ out of your deranged head!  
  
Your thinking was feverish. _A quick fix_, that was all there was to it, right?  
  
If one said you shouldn't think of pink elephants, then of course you'd think of pink elephants. So if by that law you couldn't ignore his presence, even in your mind, then for now _let him wash over you_.  
  
You turned on the shower head. Held it towards your clit. You moved the other hand towards the opening underneath. Its slickness betrayed how much your captor had truly affected you.  
  
~~  
  
You leaned on the cold tiles of the wall. You felt incredibly relieved, incredibly ashamed and incredibly afraid of yourself. The running shower head hung limp in your hand.  
  
_"God..."_ you whispered. You stood like this, staring down defeatedly at the water drainage that disposed both water and _evidence_.  
  
Mother Nature's unrest was going to turn up again, one way or another. But not today...you made sure of that.  
  
You hurriedly changed into fresh garments (finally), opened up the bathroom window for a good part, and made your way downstairs.  
  
Either you had gone too long without food, or Arsène pulled of making an omelette so rich in flavor, that the aroma attacking your senses made you course into a whole different temptation. Your stomach churned audibly.  
  
Arsène had changed into more casual clothes, and leaned on the kitchen counter. His eyes were closed while he gently relished his own coffee.  
  
For a split second, the idea of attacking him in this vulnerable moment came to mind, but vanished when next you saw your dish on the small table at the wall across from him. Your coffee sat by just as flirtatiously.  
  
Your mouth watered. An impulsive attack wasn't probably the smartest idea for now...  
  
You sat down and took a bite. Not sparing him a glance. Once the food entered your mouth, you stilled. Your mind blanked.  
  
Slowly, you chewed at this wonder of flavors.  
  
"It's good, isn't it?" He asked. You turned your head towards his pleased expression.  
  
You gulped down, not helping but wanting to say:  
  
"It is... what did you put in there?"  
  
His eyes twinkled.  
  
"... eggs, salt, pepper, tomatoes, cheese, onion, lemon sap, chestnut mushrooms...I've learned to always use those instead of white ones. Guarantees more flavor. Furthermore...fresh oregano, rosemary, Chinese smoked paprika powder makes a whole lot of difference too...I hope you can smell some marjoram? A shame that I could get those dried only..."  
  
You sniffed at your food. It was just heavenly, but to discern what was what felt like something better left to sorcerers.  
  
"What even is Marjoram?" _Stop it y/n. You told yourself you shouldn't talk to him! _  
  
"Oh, I'll show you!" With childlike delight, he hurriedly searched the kitchen counter.  
  
"Oh, you don't have to-"  
  
"Here." Before you knew it, he held out a small container with the dried herb he held in such high regard.  
  
You carefully took if from him, opened the lid and took a slight whiff.  
  
It was a mellowed mix of something spicy, sweet and minty, all at once.  
  
It was alluring.  
  
"Right?" Your face probably said it all.  
  
"Yeah..."  
  
For the first time since coming here, you felt like you were finally getting a bit more at ease. Not sure if that was a good thing though.  
  
But there was no denying that you were a social animal, starved for communication and intimacy. You fixed the latter part in the shower just now...but there was no way around this. You craved conversation too.  
  
"It's a shame the garlic had already sprouted before I used them..." He said more to himself.  
  
You were halfway your plate. Tried at his coffee. _Goddamn..._it tasted just as heavenly. Did he put vanilla in it?  
  
You had your own two cents regarding the garlic: "Don't worry about that, fresh garlic tastes just the same. And it has a mainly aromatic function anyway."  
  
He stared at you in disbelief. Then quickly came to sit across from you at the table. Suddenly way closer.  
  
"You don't mean that. Sprouted garlic is definitely more bitter!"  
  
His elitist behaviour was kind of amusing. You decided to indulge his interests a little.  
  
"I admit, a tad. But does it really matter? In the end, when put through the dish it really has the same effect to me."  
  
He shook his head in clear disappointment.  
  
"You just haven't tasted true, fresh garlic. Even if you think you have."  
  
"Now you're being childish. You can take my word for it that I HAVE tasted fresh garlic, and that I simply differ in opinion on them."  
  
"Tch.", was his answer. He didn't believe you still.  
  
"I recently converted to garlic powder. It tastes the same and I don’t have to cut them too. Really convenient, you know?"  
  
"Now _you're_ the one testing me..."  
  
Both of you couldn't help but laugh a little at your obvious lie.  
  
It was alienating. This slight warmth in the atmosphere. You wanted to hold on to it. So you refrained from asking who the hell it was that commissioned your taking. You wanted to forget about it. Pretend there was no such thing going on, for now.  
  
Your marked hands grazed your cup of coffee. You grew conscious of how your priorities grew twisted.  
  
It was what's happening, wasn't it.  
  
"I saw a cat this morning."  
  
  
  
  
  
The room grew cold.  
  
  
  
  
  
You looked up, baffled from his stiffened form. His eyes became hard. The corners of his mouth turned down in irritation.  
  
His eyes slowly skimmed the windows. He got up from his chair.  
  
"n-Not a fan of cats?", you asked in bewilderment at his sudden change in behaviour.  
  
He didn't answer. Instead went to look out of all the windows in the room, like some paranoid person.  
  
Your illusion of a normal world was shattered instantly.  
  
"What color was it?" His voice was unnervingly monotone.  
  
Something in his manner made you fear for the animal. What if by chance he was an _active_ cat hater?  
  
"Brown." You lied.  
  
You flinched with how fiercely he glanced at you. Silently warning you not to fuck with him.  
  
"Did he have a collar?" He asked.  
  
Hopefully he was leaning into the idea that you were rather normally afraid of him, than purposely lying (Jesus, it had come to _that_)  
  
"No." You fought at keeping eye contact. Keeping your face straight.  
  
His shoulders then relaxed. The hand that clenched the window sill began to rather hang. A deep sigh was released from his chest.  
  
Your shoulders relaxed too. So it was this specific cat he had beef with…  
  
"I'd say it's time to leave."  
  
That was fine. The food had lost flavor anyway from the moment you once again realized you were in the company of a _complete lunatic_.  
  
The feeling of theft you had earlier grew ten times bigger, as did your shame. You couldn't look at your food.  
  
Outside, the cat got itself hidden from view. Behind a tree.


	6. Laughing Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for waiting on me :)
> 
> I don't write all that eloquently, correctly, or coherently due to this not being my first language and not having a bèta.  
So I'm super thankful at you guys appreciating the things that I DO manage to type out for you to read!  
What I lack in style, I make up in plot and characterization, I hope!
> 
> This chapter both wrecked and excited me.  
Hope it does the same to you :^)

"You drive, I navigate." He commanded.  
  
Both of you were outside. The smell of pines hit your nose. Clouds had filled up the sky to the point there was nothing but white to see above the treetops.  
  
It was funeral weather, really.  
  
Your previous coat was torn and discarded. You had to deal with the cold wearing two layers of sweaters. Apparently, Arsène saw fit to be thorough in stealing from your apartment...  
  
In this light of day, you could properly see that your former abode had been in the trunk of some grey Toyota.  
  
And frankly, you were merely thankful to be promoted from package to chauffeur. Certain you’d lose it for real, were you to be kept in such a dark and small space again.  
  
But it would have been less risky _to him_ if your mobility was restricted. You wouldn't be able to try and escape.  
  
This puzzled you.  
  
You let yourself in.  
  
The sound of the car doors shutting felt too definite, as did the sound of the both of you fastening your seatbelts.  
  
Arsène handed you the car keys. You ignited. Your docile behaviour brought forth a foul taste in your mouth.  
  
He rummaged the glove compartment. You willed your judgmental mind to _stop screaming_ at your cooperation. There was no use in putting up a fight unless there were bystanders, possible witnesses.  
  
You drove the car into the small sandy roadway.  
  
Trees flitted past the sides of your vision in an infinite play of browns and greens.  
  
From the corner of your eye, you noticed how your captor took out a second wall from the glove compartment. What the...  
  
Next thing you knew, there was a gun in his hand. You focused your eyes on the road again. Desperately tried to ignore the clicking sounds.  
  
He was loading it.  
  
The palms of your hands were sweating against the leather of the wheel.  
  
Never before had you witnessed the presence of a loaded gun.  
  
In need for distracting your mind, calming it, you quickly asked:  
  
"Who was it?"  
  
"Hn?"  
  
"t- The one who requested my taking?"  
  
"I'd rather have you guess. You could do that, to an extent." he answered rather playfully.  
  
You chewed at the inside of your cheek. _God_, were you tired of him.  
  
"Does it have something to do with my art?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Family?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
The scenery changed and the sandy surface gave way to cracked cement. You drove the edge of a cliff in a slight curve round one of many dark mountains. The world had opened up to reveal you were in some grand typical Japanese middle-of-nowhere place.  
  
As a child, you would often figure these type of mountains were the hairy backs of sleeping giants. Old places of nature are titillating to the imagination, often evoking myths that would be told and believed through many generations.  
  
Only nowadays, as you’d grown older, those forest-related imaginations became less fairytale-like. They grew into fears that didn’t feel all too unlikely in becoming true.  
  
"Go right here."  
  
You turned wheel on one of the rare occurrences the road split. The curve was hairpin bend, and made you mentally curse over how there weren't any rail guards.  
  
The road kept being small.  
  
"Does it have to do with someone I actually know?" You asked, exasperated.  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
There weren't any other cars you'd seen so far. Like the two of you had been alone in this green and somber world.  
  
_Wait. It couldn't be…_  
  
"Does it have to do with someone I know from my part-time cleaning?"  
  
"...Yes."  
  
Wait. What? How so? There was no person of importance you cou-  
  
Oh.  
  
"h-Hoshino?"  
  
You couldn't look at him with the road being this dangerous. He kept silent for a minute, made you suffer a little before finally answering:  
  
"Correct."  
  
"c-Can I stop for a minute?"  
  
Miss Hoshino was filthy rich after all. Were you being held for ransom? No way, you were just her cleaning lady!  
  
"No."  
  
"I really don't think I can concentrate on the road like this!"  
  
Why not her son then? Why did it have to be you? And for a big sum of money too!  
  
No, it couldn't be for ransom. Kidnappers aren't commissioned to do their job for ransom if said ransom wasn't their payment already!  
  
What the hell was going on?!  
  
Arsène snorted, amused by your grasping at the loose ends that had been provided up till now.  
  
_Was Miss Hoshino in danger too?!_  
  
"Please, let me pull to the side. If only for a minute. This is getting dangerous for both of us!" Tears welled up in your eyes. For god's sake, the poor woman was involved!  
  
"No. Stop asking. I'll keep explaining as long as you keep your eyes on the road." The fact that he had a gun on his person didn’t make it easier handling your troubling thoughts.  
  
"Besides."  
  
There was the sound of fireworks in the distance behind you. Or you thought it to be fireworks.  
  
"We're in danger anyway."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"Speed up!" He shouted.  
  
You saw another car behind you in the mirror. The curve of the mountain had made it so you hadn't noticed its presence beforehand. The hands protruding from the vehicle were holding something in them. It glistened in the sun and-_Oh god no._  
  
Arsène unfastened his seatbelt and brought half his torso out of the window. Your eardrums were immediately plagued with a stampede of gun shots and glass breaking to pieces. The wind from outside pulled at your clothes.  
  
You held your arm in front of you as many bullets pierced the front window. Flying shards bit your arm.  
  
“Agh!”  
  
For a second you thought you were going to fly off the steep grounds, but luckily kept a good grip with the other hand, holding the wheel and estimating the curve of the road.  
  
You sped up as soon you noticed the other car was getting closer.  
  
Arsène was back inside and ducked so he could reload his gun.  
  
You couldn't think. Only had your eyes glued on the road while keeping your head low. Arsène laughed airily, possessed by adrenaline.  
  
"Well aren’t they _considerate?_ See how they insist upon taking this job over from me!"  
  
His sense of danger seemed nonexistent as he flit back outside and began shooting again.  
  
"Thanks for the offer but I’m good!"  
  
Oh. _God._ The speed in which you took the curve around the mountain was insane! The horizon was skewing. Or was this side of the car actually coming from the ground with how fast you were driving?!  
  
Gun sounds swarmed all over the place. More shards bit your arm.  
  
The horizon was getting more and more skewed.  
  
"I've got them all! You can slow down!" Arsène exclaimed.  
  
From the mirror you glanced the other car tumbling off the mountainside. Your captor fastened his seatbelt again.  
  
The Toyota slammed down after you lowered speed. If you hadn’t had your seatbelt on, you would have hit your head crazy hard on the ceiling and possibly suffer a concussion from it.  
  
The horizon was straight again.  
  
"Good thing the front window held up." Arsène said in relief.  
  
Your eyes remained wide. Your hands had a dead grip on the steering wheel.  
  
This guy was crazy. Absolutely crazy.  
  
Then came a loud **pang** from one corner at the back of the vehicle. Both of you felt the tire going flat instantly, and throwing you out of balance...  
  
... from the road, into the forest.  
  
You screamed your lungs out as the car toppled over its own axis. It was as if the both of you were on the inside of an active centrifuge.  
  
Both airbags slammed into your faces. The car toppled over, tens of times, before finally banging to a halt. Gravity snapped you to the side. In the wink of an eye, the ceiling suddenly steeped downwards towards the back of the car in an unnatural pull.  
  
Colors were playing round the corners of your eyes.  
  
Slowly, you realized the car had slammed _sideways into a tree._  
  
Something warm clumsily caressed the side of your face, above from you.  
  
You slowly turned your head. Arsène was hanging unconsciously in his seat from above. A trickle of blood crawled from his hairline.  
  
His arm hung limply towards you and made his hand swing lightly over your cheek. His blood drippled your neck.  
  
His eyes were shut and his lips were slightly parted. The impact had him knocked out.  
  
The sight of him was lurid, but also had something of the intimate. Gravity made it look like his unconscious body wanted to reach out and treasure you like some lost love.  
  
The airbags began to soften. You were able to look at your side, which was under you...and turned out to be the forest floor. His hand fell further into your hair. Your stomach became hollow at the touch.  
  
The smell of gasoline was strong. You had to climb over to his side, past him, to get out.  
  
You unfastened, managed to push down some of the airbags and reached for the door above you. Arsene's face hung close by. The scent of his blood and sweat hit your nostrils.  
  
It was like resurfacing from a dive too challenging. You wanted out. Everything about this was choking you with unease and something else _you did not want to name._  
  
The airbags weren't fully softened still, so you found yourself pushed into Arsene's warm chest. There was the slow rise and fall of it, and a heartbeat assuring you he was still alive.  
  
Your hand found the handle.  
  
\---  
  
With so many people visiting the Mauritshuis, it was rather quiet.  
  
The museum's interior was dark. Intricate flowery wallpapers decorated the walls. Light came in by either a chandelier, or some rows of spotlights at the side. The windows didn't add much as the weather was dark and rainy in the Netherlands as of now.  
  
The wooden floor creaked with every step Yusuke took, whom never registered the sound.  
  
This place was_ marvelous_.  
  
Some prince Maurits had this baroque classicist home built somewhere at the seventeenth century, the Dutch Golden Age. It was home to many famous genre paintings.  
  
These painters of old _knew_ life was fascinating up to its most ordinary properties. From children blowing bubbles, to merely the subject of the grey clouds in the sky (and discovering new colors in them, the more you looked at it)  
  
"Did you know blue pigments cost a fortune at the time? They pulverized minerals for it. Look here, Yusuke."  
  
Madarame beckoned at him while keeping his eyes fixed onto one of Vermeer's city pieces: View of Delft.  
  
Yusuke studied the blue rooftops. He noticed a slight shimmer in the color. Ground Lapis Lazuli, probably.  
  
He then looked to the side and studied his former mentor.  
  
Ten years had passed. Madarame looked as if his life was hanging on a thread by now. But his small eyes shone with youthful excitement.  
  
The man insisted upon taking Yusuke with him on his trip through Europe. Said this place would ignite eternal inspiration when it came to portrait art and city pieces.  
  
Yusuke was honored to go with, but was moreover happy that his mentor could still stand from his wheelchair. As far as his frail body allowed for it, he could still admire the pieces in leisure. They passed Vermeer, Rembrandt, Jan Steen...  
  
"Ah, my favorite!" Croaked Madarame, pointing his trembling finger towards a small square on the wall. The framing was thick, but the painting was the size of a spread-out hand. Yusuke pushed the wheelchair towards it.  
  
It was Frans Hals' Laughing Boy.  
  
"I've always refrained from painting people laughing, in fear for coming of kitshy. I mean, every commercial painter paints them laughing because the subject paid them to." Madarame confessed with a small laugh.  
  
"These strokes... they seem so effortless." Yusuke said, amazed.  
  
"Part of the reason why Hals was able to capture this joyous energy, was that he was especially _quick_. People tend to grimace when posing for so long."  
  
The boy's grin was infectious. Yusuke couldn't help but lift the corners of his own lips, wanting to answer the painting.  
  
"This makes me think of a woman painter I once met." Yusuke began dreamily. "It was at one of my expositions... she came up to me saying she was a huge fan of mine. I saw her portfolio and believe me, she could capture a person's mood so well!"  
  
"What was her name?"  
  
"I believe it was... y/n? ...No. I can't recall."  
  
"You better do. If you want her to get some recognition, better start with yourself." The old man chuckled.  
  
"I hope she's doing well. She deserves it, really."  
  
"Shall we head for the cafeteria? There's something else I'd like to talk to you about..."  
  
~~~  
  
You managed to heave your torso out of the car. The forest ground was incredibly steep, unending. One wrong step, and you'd be plummeting to your death.  
  
You looked behind you. More of those endless trees, mud, grass and rotting leaves.  
  
Arsène's face rested against your hip. You made sure your footing wouldn't push him towards consciousness. This was awkward.  
  
Smoke flowed thickly from the car's front. You had to get out of here, but where was this place?  
  
Wait. The guy had a phone on him didn't he?  
  
You grit your teeth.  
  
_This meant you had to go back down and search his body._  
  
You crouched down, back into the car. The weakened airbag pressed at the back of your head. You were only a hand's width away from Arsène's calm and unconscious face.  
  
How could he look so innocent, resting like this?  
  
Shyly, you tried for the pockets in his coat first. Nothing but some crumbled papers, except...  
  
A card, colored in black, white and very vibrant red. The letters were cut from random texts.  
  
_Madame Sae Nijima, a great sinner of jealousy.  
  
You have lost yourself amidst your obsession with succes. For its sake, you are even willing to promote injustice as justice…  
  
From,  
  
The Phantom Thieves.  
_  
The card looked old and worn. You could tell the colors had faded over time. Why did he have this? Was this some sort of merchandise? No, the Phantom Thieves didn't do merchandise. Was this fanmade, then? Who was this Sae?  
  
**Stop it.** Focus on finding his phone!  
  
You put back the card in his coat pocket. Perhaps... his jean pockets? He always had his phone on him, didn't he?  
  
Some of your hairs swayed, due to his soft breathing. There was a faint smell of Marjoram.  
  
His sides were warm to the touch as you searched his jeans pockets.  
  
There it was.  
  
With great care, you shuffled the phone from his hip.  
  
_Please don't wake up. Please don't wake up. Please don't wake up._  
  
You put the phone in your own pocket. This experience was way too scary and suggestive.  
  
His gun laid on the floor, resting against the hump between the two front-seats of the car. You saw it glistening from behind Arsène’s parted legs.  
  
You bit your lip. No way could you risk at having him go after you with a firearm…the thing needed to be taken with.  
  
Awkwardly, you had to lay your head on his upper leg so you could reach for the gun. Your heart hammered in your ears. _Were he to wake up now..._  
  
  
Your fingers found the gun. The feeling of it in your hand felt surreal. You would make sure to get rid of it as soon you could. Hide it somewhere in a bush or something.  
  
You looked up his face again. He wasn't alarmed in the least. _Good._  
  
After shoving the gun in your pants, you carefully heaved yourself out of the car again. Then jumped down from the side. Your hands gripped the top so you could steady your footing.  
  
His phone displayed the time: 9:30  
  
Thirty minutes on the road and things were literally going downhill already.  
  
Furthermore, the phone was locked...of course. You could make use of the emergency call button, but then again you didn't know where the hell you were. You couldn't turn on the gps either.  
  
What to do, what to do... The steep ground underneath you rolled on endlessly. You probably needed to go through, from tree to tree. The road above you shouldn't be too far off either.  
  
What if by chance there were any more kidnappers up there, searching for you?  
  
Down it was then.  
  
You took the first couple of steps forward. Basically let yourself fall into one of the many trees. This was going to be one long and bruising trip...  
  
The phone in your pocket started vibrating. With trembling hands you took it out. You had to keep a good grip on the tree.  
  
You didn't want to answer, but you had to know whether or not Miss Hoshino was alright.  
  
_"What's taking you so long?!"_ the voice on the other line barked into your ear.  
  
"Where’s Miss Hoshino?" You squashed the sentence in the span of a second through your panic.  
  
You looked behind, the car was three feet away from you but you were still worried your kidnapper might wake from this.  
  
The other end of the line was silent for some time. The caller was weighing his words. He didn’t expect _you_ to answer his call.  
  
"I will tell you, if you tell me where you are, first."  
  
"i-I don't know."  
  
"Turn on your GPS, I may be able to track you."  
  
"I can't do that. w-Why would I do that? You aren’t actually going to help me, are you?" This was grating on the nerves. What were you even doing?  
  
All you wanted was to know was whether or not _she_ was okay. The voice on the other end of the line sighed.  
  
"I could help…What does the environment look like?"  
  
Your hand holding the phone shook. What was he planning?  
  
"There are trees everywhere. High mountains. t-There's not a single soul..."  
  
"Tourist season is far off still. The mountains are always eerie and forlorn in this time of year."  
  
Silence.  
  
He was thinking again.  
  
"How's your... escort?" You decided to lie. The less he had on you, the less you were in danger, probably.  
  
"I don't know! We crashed! Can you please tell me what the hell is going on?!"  
  
The voice on the other end of the line chuckled lightly. He then decided to ignore your question with one of his own.  
  
"Is he still alive?"  
  
You worried your lip. This conversation was imploding, instead of being a two-way street.  
  
Mirth left his voice now, making it even. "You have to tell me first, if you want to know about the lady that badly."  
  
You felt it. It was a trap. He wanted to keep you on the radar, within his grasp.  
  
You were sure now. He was the one who commissioned the kidnap.  
  
You wish you could hang up and rid yourself of the phone, but that was impossible now that he had something on your elderly friend. Perhaps if you put him on the wrong track, you could win yourself time.  
  
"No, he's dead."  
  
"...you're a bad liar, Y/N."  
  
He was bluffing. He must be.  
  
It was silent for a moment. He left a gap for you to correct yourself, but you didn’t respond. Didn’t want to share too many details on your current situation.  
  
His tone became dark.  
  
"You will regret working against me. I’ll make sure of that. As for Hoshino..."  
  
~~~  
  
Yusuke held his phone before Madarame's squinted eyes.  
  
"Ah, so that's her work..." the old man stated, "Impressive indeed."  
  
They were sitting at a quiet corner of the museum's cafeteria. Several people couldn't help but eye at the duo in passing by. Madarame's fame, though tainted by fraud, knew no bounds still.  
  
"It may be a good thing popularity hasn't touched her yet..." Madarame said.  
  
"How so?"  
  
The old man crossed his boney arms.  
  
"There's this new trend of criminals kidnapping artists. They force 'em into duplicating either their own or other stolen works."  
  
"That's horrible!" Yusuke exclaimed.  
  
"They must have thought: Why collaborate when we can force them to do the work for free? For all we know this y/n or whatever could become an easy target, were she on the rise."  
  
"Easy to take, but not as much missed..."  
  
"Exactly. Haven't you seen the news? You oughta know about this…"  
  
"I don't care much for news, sensei." Yusuke said in blatant honesty. News didn't reach much to one who enjoyed living in one’s own world for the greater part of time.  
  
The info was triggering though…  
  
Madarame slurped at his coffee. When he set down the cup, a stern glint appeared in his tightly pulled eyes. He lowered his voice:  
  
"Can't you do something about it? You know... _change their hearts?_"  
  
Yusuke was relieved no one in the room understood Japanese.  
  
"Sensei... you know I don't have that power anymore. No one does. Besides, it may have been morally skewed to tinker at a person's psyche like that... it still bothers me to this day."  
  
"What the hell are you spouting?!" Madarame exclaimed. People all around either whipped their heads, or glanced their eyes at them from the sudden outburst.  
  
Yusuke's throat became thick. After all these years, this subject was still sensitive.  
  
"My child! You saved my very soul back then! You have absolutely nothing to regret about this. You and all of your friends. I was acting horribly and needed to be stopped!"  
  
"I’m twenty-nine...But Sensei, don't you sometimes wish you changed of your own free will? How do you know that those feelings of regret you have now are really your own? The way you changed was perplexing! Illogical!"  
  
"But it was for the best wasn't it? Trust me Yusuke... those sinful desires, they gave me nothing but stress! It was as if I had fallen ill to an addiction I couldn't get rid of. This... **vanity**! Only when my desire to fame was taken from me, did I realise how much it had affected me. My eyes were clouded!"  
  
The air was heavy.  
  
And the lesser evil would be to let go of this subject. Proceed this trip further in peace. This wasn't good for the old man's heart.  
  
But something ate away at Yusuke. He never got to know whether or not his father figure would have been able to change _of his own accord_.  
  
Because Yusuke did that _for_ him...The thought was getting him heated.  
  
"You were, and still are responsible for the choices you've made in the past, Sensei. Comparing your emotional state to that of an illness would rip all responsibility from it! Aren't you the least bit frustrated that you didn't realize the wrongness of your faults _yourself?_"  
  
"Yusuke..."  
  
"About claiming my mother's art? Painting over it? Duplicating the works yourself?! Keeping her son in the dark, but exploiting him at the same time?! These wrongdoings were in your face throughout my whole youth! How could you dismiss all that to an illness?!"  
  
Yusuke didn't realize he had increased his voice. Other guests were looking over their shoulders, wondering what the scene was about.  
Madarame's face had merely sunken at Yusuke's outburst. But there was also relief, as if he had waited for some time to get this out of his student.  
  
"You doubt at the sincerity of my regret...I get your frustration. But hear me out..." Madarame's voice was careful, soothing. He saw how Yusuke's fist kept itself clenched.  
  
"You need to accept that I would have continued abusing my power over you, had you and the others not taken my dark desire...you call it tinkering at the psyche, and for sure, it was forceful what you did..."  
  
Yusuke's eyes shone with emotion, he looked at Madarame, who smiled softly.  
  
"But so are mothers with their children. I see it as another form of caring, _helping_.  
  
I am certain that a lot of children need to be forcefully taught in the consequences of their actions. Otherwise they'll easily grow into twisted adults."  
  
"Sensei..."  
  
"I am ashamed that I have grown into such an awful adult. I fear greatly of relapsing, am wary of my emotions all the time. But I'm thankful for being wary, Yusuke! I feel blissful, knowing I can willfully redeem myself. Even if it won't proof enough in the end..."  
  
Yusuke got off his chair, walked over, and took the old man in an embrace.  
  
"You already are redeemed, Sensei... it's just...difficult to think about it at times."  
  
Madarame clutched at Yusuke's arms.  
  
"I can see that, and I am glad we finally talked about it again. But could you please stop hugging me? You know I'm not too fond of those...and we’re in a cafeteria for heaven’s sake."  
  
"Oh. Yeah. Sorry."  
  
Yusuke scratched himself behind the ear, feeling every pair of eyes on him now. A woman shed a tear in discretion, moved by the display of emotion even though she didn’t understand what it was about.  
  
"a-Anyway! I don't think that girl we talked about earlier doesn’t have much to fear about.” Yusuke said, deciding now was a great time to change the subject.  
  
"How so?"  
  
"She isn’t much known. Not in the least, now that I really think about it."  
  
~~~  
  
"As for Miss Hoshino..." The voice on the other line stated. You hung on his lips.  
  
"...that is something I won’t tell you as of yet. I will call again in a few hours, give you time to figure out your surroundings so you won’t have an excuse later…I want a fair exchange of information, y/n. You haven't proven to be _fair _with me.  
  
If you won't tell me of your whereabouts then, news on that woman won't be very pleasant_. I promise you that._" He ended the call.  
  
You felt like a fool.  
  
Came to your knees. Held yourself against the tree. Your sight on the grass floor was unfocused.  
  
The voice was so...indifferent. Towards you and your captor both. He never asked how it came you were the one to pick up the phone. He switched gears in the blink of an eye.  
  
You didn't know if you could go through with this without going crazy. And you didn't just mean through the woods, but also the mystery, the stress of not knowing what to expect.  
  
You had to be truthful the next time the call came, for Hoshino’s safety. You brought yourself up again, ready to walk to (more like fall into) the next tree.  
  
  
  
  
"It's going to be okay..." A small boyish voice sounded ahead of you.  
  
You clenched the tree that supported you. Looked around. Who...?  
  
The same cat you saw earlier this morning revealed itself from one of the bushes in front of you. It's eyes shone with determination.  
  
You started laughing and shook your head. Silly y/n, it couldn't have been-  
  
"Calm down...okay? We need to talk."  
  
The cat's mouth opened and closed in perfect synchronization to the sound that was coming out of him.  
  
You felt like you could faint any moment now.


	7. Living up to Expectations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, hasn't it?

The stress had finally gotten to you. That must be it.  
  
"Please don't tell me you can talk."  
  
The cat's ears drooped. Then it continued to do the unthinkable again.  
  
"I'm sorry, but you have to accept this reality for now..."  
  
You scoffed.  
  
"My mind is trying to convince me of my own delusions."  
  
"Would you-"  
  
"No! Stop it! STOP TALKING! I've got enough on my plate already!" You wanted to throw dirt on this mocking animal, but kept yourself in check.  
  
The cat's eyes shone with emotion. They begged you for an ear.  
  
You decided to ignore it and got yourself up from the ground. Planned on moving forward as it was a long ways ahead, through the nettles, ferns, dens and more of the like.  
  
"You can't leave him like this you know." The creature spoke, pointing with it's gaze at the person in the car you were very much intending to leave behind.  
  
"I don't give a shit about that creep." You said heatedly. Guess you were easily provoked into conversation again.  
  
"Yeah, I get that." The cat brought itself next to your feet. "He's a real pain in the ass, but seriously, he's got a head wound. He needs treatment." You moved forward, from tree to tree, avoiding the animal with your feet.  
  
"Last time I checked, it was a scratch that should have dried by now...he can handle himself."  
  
"But he's unconscious! What if he's suffering a concussion?"  
  
"Stop nagging! What are you, my consciousness? Is that why my mind is casting you?"  
  
The creature laughed in delight.  
  
"If that makes sense enough for you!"  
  
"Oh, how I thirst for anything making sense..."  
  
You stilled.  
  
"Why is my consciousness insisting I help this guy?" Your heart clenched.  
  
The cat was silent for a moment, mulling over the words.  
  
"Maybe...because somehow, deep down, you believe he used to be a real good person?"  
  
You looked behind your shoulder, to the wreck of a car still planted sideways into the tree. The smoke coming out of it began to lessen.  
  
"I’m passing on that thought…but he _is_ intriguing, I’ll give you that. I think I know too much about him, actually.” you said.  
  
"You could use that."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"He may be a pro at stealing stuff, but human trafficking is still a new territory for him. He may have _regrets_ about it. You could convince him to bring you and the old lady back to safety and call off whatever deal he had."  
  
You pinched the bridge of your nose.  
  
"Look, cat. There's suggesting, and there's asking the impossible. You're doing the latter here..."  
  
"I don't think it's impossible." The cat jumped in front of you, absolutely thrilled you were willing to speak to it. "The fact that he failed to bring you makes him more vulnerable! There's a dent in his plan and ego already!"  
  
"Then wouldn't he be all the more set on bringing me to whatever destination I was supposed to go to?"  
  
"That's where you go full against him! Argue him! I think you'll have a chance in winning him over to what is the right thing to do!"  
  
You shook your head in disbelief.  
  
"Listen, I'll check his wound...but I won't do anything more of what you just suggested...I **will** leave him after this." You said, never forgetting how he had you in ropes, or hurt your neck.  
  
You did not want to do this, but neglecting your conscious had never been your style either.  
  
  
\----  
  
"Turn right! No! The other right! Left!" Ann exclaimed.  
  
"W-what?! Ann, you gotta be more clear with the navigation! I can't change directions in the middle of a crossing!" Ryuji reacted.  
  
Ann squinted her eyes at the bewildering lines and shapes. She was trying her hardest at recognizing the roads and icons on the map.  
  
"It's not my fault you didn't download the location on Google Maps! There's no network in this region too!"  
  
"How far off society ARE we even?" Ryuji's eyes scanned the dark mountainscape around them. The colors of the environment were a lot dimmer than was printed on the brochure of the Kita Alps. The oncoming mist began to hang low and dense, which didn't bode well for their hiking-date.  
  
The pair decided to park on the side of the small roadway. Ryuji grabbed the map from Ann.  
  
"I told you I was shit at navigating." Ann sighed.  
  
"Yeah, and here I was hoping you would disprove that by now...let me at least see if we're at the right side of the Takahara river...you saw ANY river nearby, Ann?"  
  
"Not really..." Ann didn't dare admit she was too busy decoding the map to take much notice of the surroundings.  
  
Ryuji squinted at the large piece of paper, turned it for a quarter and squinted again. Eventually, he threw it down his lap.  
  
"Well, I don't blame you. We can't see jackshit with that mist closing in on us. There goes our day hiking...weird...forecast said it was gonna be clear."  
  
"And resting at the onsen...hey, how about we drive just a bit further. See if any sign comes up. Last one we saw was that of that Tochio postoffice, right?"  
  
"That was an hour ago..."  
  
"Then how abou-_what the fuck?!"_  
  
Ann stared out the window with open mouth. Ryuji followed her gaze.  
  
There, out of the trees, emerged a young woman. She wore two vests, worn and torn by what seemed from an endless rattling of branches and dirt. Her hair was tousled and her complexion spoke of fatigue. The cat accompanying her had a tuxedo style coating, blue eyes and a yellow collar.  
  
"Whoah! Did she just come from those steep woods?" Ryuji exclaimed.  
  
Ann tried at rolling down the window, but was interrupted by her date. His hand strongly clutched hers.  
  
"She could be dangerous. Don't be reckless."  
  
"No way. She looks so distressed and beaten up! We gotta help her!"  
  
"We leave her be, we ain't got anything to do with this shit we- wait is that MONA?!** Foreal?!**”  
  
Ann's eyes widened at the cat approaching their car, along with the woman  
  
whom turned out to be you. Your eyes began to brim with tears at the sight of the two strangers gaping at both you and the cat. Salvation was in sight.  
  
Ann didn’t hesitate on rolling down the window.  
  
"Are you alright Miss? a-And Morgana is that you?!"  
  
"The one and only Lady Ann!" The cat's tail swished playfully from left to right.  
  
The car door was open in a second, followed by the blond girl instantly hugging the talking creature.  
  
"Oh my god, it really IS you!"  
  
You brought a hand to your forehead. Everything was getting to you. The events of the past few days played like a fractured movie in your tortured head. You were so happy to have met two new, seemingly human beings. But things were becoming too much.  
  
"y-You...can understand that cat?" You brought over your lips with great effort. Your head was feeling more than heavy.  
  
You sunk to your knees on the grass. The blond male approached you and held your shoulder gently.  
  
"Hey...keep it together. I don't know what you went through, but we're gonna help you, alright?"  
  
"That's right!" The cat turned at you. "As your conscience I'm commanding you NOT to despair!"  
  
"You'reawhatnow?" Ann said.  
  
You kept smiling wryly at nothing in front of you.  
  
"Come on, let's get you up and moving." Ryuji said while bringing his other hand towards the other shoulder. You slapped both his hands out of the way, as if they could poison you.  
  
"Don't touch me!" You said louder than intended. "i-I mean, I can stand!" You couldn't handle any more person touching you however they liked.  
  
"Okay...was only trying to help." The blond man shoved his hands in his pockets. The concern didn't leave his face.  
  
"I know...sorry." You answered, not feeling the least bit proud with how you just snapped at him.  
  
"Can we...help you some other way? Give you a lift perhaps? You don't have to tell us what happened if you don't want to." Ann said carefully.  
  
The cat was shaking its head.  
  
"I'm afraid this concerns _all of us_. Let's find us some hostel or something. I'll explain everything then..."  
  
Ann and Ryuji looked at each other for a few seconds, then nodded their heads, agreeing to the proposition.  
  
Your head was still whirling, but the prospect of getting further light shed on this rollercoaster that had been the past few days, kept you on your feet.  
  
"I'd like to come with then." You said.  
  
\-----  
  
You hated the feeling of a seatbelt constricting you. Even though it was the normal thing to have when sitting inside a car. You hated seeing the seatbelt fixed over you.  
  
"The name is Ryuji by the way. The one with the pigtails is Ann, and I suppose you already know Morgana?"  
  
"Uh...yeah. My name is y/n." You brought forth from the backseat. The purring animal whose name was Morgana, apparently, was warming your lap and convincing you all the more of what a strange reality it posed.  
  
"Pleased to meet you y/n!" Ann chirped sweetly. You gave a small smile back at her.  
  
"Does anybody know where this is?" You asked.  
  
"These are the Kita-Alps. Ann and I were supposed to..." The man eyed the cat warily through the car mirror. "...visit some friends."  
  
"Huh? No we weren't." Ann said, not in the least taking note of Ryuji's hint. "We were going for hiking and onsen! The two of us!"  
  
"WHAT? The two of you went on a _date_?!?" The cat mewled in distress. Its tail became as thick as a chimney sweeper.  
  
"Lady Ann! What has gotten into you? You are way too good for this flea!"  
  
"What did you just call me?!" Ryuji barked.  
  
"Don't worry Mona, I know what I'm heading into." Ann waved her hand like this was all but a small matter.  
  
The cat became eerily silent. Brooding.  
  
"Do we know where _exactly_ in the Kita Alps we are?" You asked.  
  
"...Actually, I was hoping you'd tell us." Ryuji said.  
  
"So we _don't know_ what we're headed into." The cat said bitterly.  
  
You giggled.  
  
Everybody in the car raised their brows at that. You then burst out laughing, over the group's meaningless banter.  
  
You knew for a fact, that even if you didn't know them that well,  
  
you had a good feeling about them.  
  
\----  
  
The thief’s eyes fluttered open. His first instinct was to grab for his gun...which was missing.  
  
How...?  
  
He brought his hand towards his head, feeling some form of bandage applied to it. It didn't feel as bad as a chafe, but it was nice to know y/n apparently put something around it…the act did not surprise him, why was that?  
  
She must either hate or fear his guts after all. Speaking of, where was she?  
  
It didn't take long for the man to figure out he had been hanging sideways like some poor stunt dummy, only held dignified by a seatbelt pulled taut.  
  
He looked at the other passenger seat, forlorn. Then outside, also forlorn. The thought of his gun missing hit him again. He felt for his phone. Gone.  
  
For a moment. He stared straight forward into nothing. His eyes were hard. His lips were thin.  
  
The air was boiling.  
  
\-----  
  
It was after an hour that you and the group saw a remote hostel come into view.  
The building was all darkened woodwork except for the gable roofing on top. Pines surrounded the building like they wanted to swallow it up.  
  
Once inside the hostel, you noticed how low the ceilings were. There were many black and white photographs decorating the walls, telling the long history of the place and its few workers.  
  
It was dark.  
  
There was a drawing room near the reception, furnished in an almost completely antique style. The light from the windows was spare and eerie due to the mistbank outside.  
  
Ryuji rang the bell on the desk.  
  
From the staircase above, a short boney man came stumbling with cleaning supplies in hand. Why was he bringing that with him?  
  
He had a short beard and sported a vest with diamonds on them. The sole of one of his shoes had gotten half loose.  
  
He dropped the supplies illogically in front of the door towards the men's toilet, and rather stumbled than walked his way towards the reception desk.  
  
"w-Why hello young fellows! I didn't expect any visitors in this season with the mist and all! What can I do for you?" His voice sounded like he had a hedgehog stuck down his throat.  
  
"We would like a room for three people please!" Ann said.  
  
"Wait, not two?" Ryuji whispered. A certain hope for something seemed to be leaving his eyes.  
  
"Of course not! I fear for y/n's safety. She looks like she’s been through something…" She whispered back.  
  
"Hey! I'm here too!" Morgana mewled from inside Ryuji's bag.  
  
The old man searched through the keys on the wall.  
  
"That can be arranged. Just for the night, yes? That'll be 5000 yen then.  
  
You swore in silence that you'd make sure to pay Ann back, sometime.  
  
~~~  
  
Once inside the room, you, Ann and Ryuji sat around Morgana to do his story.  
  
The creature giggled.  
  
"Oh man, your faces. I bet you’re having so many questions right now. All right, I'll explain as best as I can about how me and y/n got here."  
  
You sat stiffly, clenching your hands on your knees.  
  
"This is about Akira."  
  
Ann and Ryuji's faces became full alert at that. Morgana turned to you.  
  
"And by Akira, I mean the guy that you just escaped from."  
  
You bowed your head and bit the inside of your cheek. Just as you hoped you had nothing more to do with that man...  
  
"Since the two of you used to be his first and closest of friends, I think now more than ever, you deserve to know what had happened to him. And also why I want you to hear of it."  
  
"I don't know if we want to hear it..." Ann folded her arms. "Were we friends?" She eyed protectively at Ryuji.  
  
Ryuji studied the ground, thinning his lips. "In the end, no...but I do want _closure_. He meant a lot to me in my youth. I wouldn't have turned out the way I am now, had he not come into my life. He helped me a lot in becoming a better person."  
  
Ann quivered her lip.  
"Me too. He helped me change for the better. I don't think I would have come far in my modeling if he hadn't supported me so many times in the beginning. But then I found out he was dating eight other women! And he was acting really distant at some point!"  
  
"Lady Ann, it was difficult to watch for me too."  
  
You tried to picture the man who took you from your home as the youth described in Ryuji and Ann's words. There were a couple of times where you recall sensing a sort of sincerity from him...but it seemed like he used to be way more than that in the past.  
  
It wasn't unlikely. No, it made sense…  
  
The cat continued its story.  
  
"Yes, Akira used to be an energetic, encouraging, devious and idiotic guy, but he isn't the same person now. I've seen him change."  
  
"When he started up the café, right?" Ryuji's said.  
  
"Yes. Everything in life had come so easy to him. So setting up his own business seemed fruitful. Piece of cake.  
  
He had expectations of himself. Because he helped out his friends so much in setting up _their_ lives, he felt like he had to become some sort of example. He pressured himself to become successful at like, everything.  
  
But then the rumors about his delinquency _stuck_. Near nobody visited the café except for his friends, and unpaid bills began to pile up. How was he going to pay back that big loan with high interest? These worries kept him troubled for over more than half a year…"  
  
You couldn't help but empathize. Financial problems were things you could feel in your very bones.  
  
"He couldn't fight off the rumors, couldn't let people taste his culinary findings. He couldn't be in his element. Life continued to gradually weigh him down both financially as it did socially."  
  
"He should have asked for help." Ann said.  
  
"He couldn't. He was the example, remember? Asking for help would shatter his ego. You don't want to know how many times I've told him that it's OKAY to pause, fail or give up! Or that it's okay to ask for help! Share your troubles!  
But no, he preferred to stubbornly let things spiral downward in isolation. He wouldn’t sell the place, and kept doing things on his own. He kept hoping for potential customers who would give him a chance, who would spread the good word eventually."  
  
There was a pause. Morgana let the words sink in before continuing.  
  
"Then he realised there were still more things he excelled at. If he couldn't make a living through gastronomy, then stealing was a simple option too. He had the talent for it.  
  
And once that idea settled into his head, I saw it happening."  
  
You felt goosebumps appear on your arms.  
  
"A shadow, forming at the center of his soul. He forsake his daily up keepings with the café, and decided to cut off his friends and family. Day after day, I saw him tinkering at questionable gadgets and planning out shady stuff."  
  
"I remember those gadgets lying around!" Ryuji exclaimed.  
  
Morgana's eyes sunk.  
  
"He was desperate in giving his life _meaning_. I still remember him saying: **"If I can't make a living due to those rumors, I might as well live up to them."****  
**  
"That's...sad." You said, feeling the bitterness from Morgana’s citation.  
  
"Yeah, and dumb. He should have asked for help so we could have battled those rumors together." Ann said.  
  
"Agreed." Morgana affirmed. "As of now, he deems himself too far gone into the thieving world to get back to a normal living. He enjoys it a disturbing lot too…but I’m certain he can be redeemed."  
  
"So how did it end, between you and Akira?" Ryuji asked.  
  
"We had a big fight. Said words we weren't all that proud off. At some point we even said we didn't need each other anymore. I didn't mean it, but in the moment it formed an easy excuse to quickly visit Lavenza. I wanted to talk to her about this growing problem in our friend..."  
  
"Wait. Who is this Lavenza?" You asked.  
  
Everyone except you looked at each other, unsure of how to describe the person.  
  
"…a good friend of mine. You wouldn’t know her, but I needed her advice." Morgana said.  
  
"And after that, you didn't see Akira anymore?" Ann asked.  
  
"Nope, by the time I was back, he had left his café for good. I didn't see him for around eight years. It was only as of recent that I caught wind of him again."  
  
"...okay, so Akira has gone into thievery...and how did this one get into his mess?" Ryuji pointed at you.  
  
"Akira kidnapped her."  
  
"WHAT?!" The two blonds shouted in unison.  
  
"It was assigned. I'm not sure by whom, but I heard the reward was big enough to form a reason in doing it. I can’t imagine it’s typical for him to steal an actual _person_… She just escaped him."  
  
Ryuji and Ann stared at you.  
  
"No way..." Ryuji said in both disbelief and anger.  
  
Ann looked at you with full worry, seeing you in a new light. You only became less comfortable under their scrutiny.  
  
Morgana sighed.  
  
"Guys." The creature's voice was small. Everyone was alert.  
  
"I'm going to ask something of you...but I understand completely if you don't want to do it. The choice is ultimately up to you."  
  
You kept wondering at the mentioning of a shadow in his soul. Given the situation, it seemed like a rather dramatic and poetic statement.  
  
Albeit, also fitting.


	8. Mist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm such a slowpoke. Stop editing and just upload the thing. Who cares about spelling errors :'D

Mist had spread all over Japan. Miss Hoshino couldn't even see the other side of the street from her own living room window. She traced a finger over the coffee table. A speckling of dust gathered at the tip. She blew it into the room. Each particle disappeared into nothing.  
  
Quiet.  
  
So quiet.  
  
The mist outside could have her believe she was living in a small box, drawn on a big, stark white canvas of which the artist had no further clue as of how to progress further with. Progress. That's what she'd been missing for the past few days in her state of unrest.  
  
Was y/n still mad? _God._ She shouldn't have offered such a sum of money to that young woman...  
  
She had tried to call her for a couple of times, but kept receiving the same message:  
  
_"Hello! This is y/n. As of the moment I'm too busy to answer the phone, so please leave a message and I'll answer as soon as I can."  
_  
As soon as she could...it had been two days now since Miss Hoshino had left her first voice-mail. Normally she would receive an answer the same day. Was y/n really that cross with her?  
  
It may have been impulsive to offer that money, but she couldn't help herself. Her good friend was still young, deserved to _live_ a little, instead of tiring herself out on making some basic income.  
  
Hoshino knew she wasn't the only person thinking she deserved better. A lot of people in the neighborhood thought so. Y/n brought so much help and joy to the people who weren't able to do their own housekeeping. Always stayed for a little chat. Brought color into their lives with the little time she could spare...  
  
She hadn’t appeared for the appointed cleaning this morning. Even if she was angry, she would have called off….This wasn't her style. Something was amiss.  
  
The doorbell rang.  
  
Could that be her? Oh, how Miss Hoshino wished for it! She would apologize immediately. She wanted her friend back. Put the idiocy behind them.  
  
Miss Hoshino walked to the front door and opened up. As soon as she saw who it was, she felt like a punctured balloon, depleted of all enthusiasm.  
  
"Hey mom."  
  
"...Tate."  
  
"Can I come in?" Hoshino pulled unconsciously at the sleeves of her sweater.  
  
"Sure." She quipped, and let the young man in. She took his coat off him, gestured him towards the living room.  
  
While preparing tea in the kitchen, Miss Hoshino felt a bit as if she lived outside of her own skin. Why did she let him in?  
  
_He must be standing in front of the window_, she thought. Her son had that nervous air around him that wouldn't allow him to sit down in the early moments of visiting.  
  
Why was she pretending to be hospitable?  
  
Why of course: He was her son…but she had an ongoing fight with him.  
  
She poured the water into the cups. Her sleeves shifted so a bit of bruises revealed. At her age, these things didn't fade as fast as they used to.  
  
After filtering the leaves, she brought the tray with hot beverages to the living room. Tate was indeed standing in front of the window, losing himself to the mist outside.  
  
"Isn't your cleaning lady usually present at this time of the week?"  
  
"We had a disagreement." Hoshino answered, putting the tray down onto the coffee table.  
  
He didn't ask further. The old woman was grateful for it.  
  
Her son turned so he was finally facing her. The mist outside made him look more like a silhouette than a person.  
  
"Sit down." Hoshino said, starting to feel tired already.  
  
The corner of Tate’s mouth twitched.  
  
"What's the matter?" She asked.  
  
"Things aren't looking good for the company." He said.  
  
Ah, the usual. It was the usual structural decline of sales that had been going on over the last couple of months. His own small chain of clothing stores didn’t fare too well as of late.  
  
"That's too bad." She said in a way that was more neutral than empathetic, taking seat.  
  
"We don't have a safety net. Personnel have been resigning as if they're jumping from a ship that's been sinking..."  
  
"That's troublesome. Do you have a plan on how to deal with it?"  
  
"You know full well how this could be helped."  
  
"No. I don't. Because I think you are _capable_ enough to think of a solution yourself. So I'm asking again: _Do you have a plan?_"  
  
Tate laughed, then slowly pulled his features to a small smile.  
  
"I get it. The company’s my responsibility. I built it from the ground and if there's a problem, I should solve it on my own.  
  
But guess what? Some problems aren't of the kind that can be solved on your own! And it grates me how you can't wrap your head around that idea."  
  
"Son, I'm not giving you money to boost your chain out of bankruptcy _again and again_. Honestly, I think it's embarrassing how you keep asking, no, _demanding_ your very own mother for money. It is all that I am to you, isn't it? Just a bank that writes you cheques with no hope for retribution." She answered icily.  
  
Tate didn't answer, and proceeded to sit down. Hurt gleamed in his eyes.  
  
"You know that is not true, mom. This is beyond kicking a bird out of the nest and see if it'll fly.  
  
Instead of flying, I see myself _crashing_. Real soon. I barely sleep at night. The stress is eating me up..." He hung his head.  
  
"So please...I'm begging you. Just once more…"  
  
"Son." Hoshino said in a vocal caress, losing the ice. Her hands however clutched the armrests of the chair. He may be manipulating her...but…he sure didn’t look too well.  
  
"You're pulling this out of proportion. If your business doesn't make it, it won't be the end of the world. Either you look for a solution, or you go into bankruptcy and try again sometime. Or, you could try something else altogether. The world is full of possibilities and maybe this just wasn’t for you."  
  
The corner of Tate’s mouth twitched again in irritation.  
  
"All I'm asking for is a little empathy, but I guess you never saw me as a priority."  
  
He knifed her with his words.  
  
"I bet you see Akio as your real son, else you wouldn't have made him CEO of Dress4You instead of me." _Something is seriously wrong with his head_, Miss Hoshino thought mournfully.  
  
"Now you listen, Akio has more experience-"  
  
"I bet even your cleaning lady means more to you than I do! It's insulting how you involve her in your personal life, calling her your **friend** while your lonely, old self can't see how delusional that is! That woman only likes to hear you talk because you _pay her so well!_ It sickens me!"  
  
He cut deep. It instantly brought Hoshino back to the moment she impulsively offered y/n that large sum of money. The shame of it made her lip quiver.  
  
Was the impulse an act of insecurity? Was she truly _that_ lonely?  
  
Tate would always be around… As fickle as their relationship had become as of late, she trusted they would always care for each other in the end.  
Only problem was that for now, she did not want him to know _when_ she was willing to help out financially, because it wasn't realistic nor healthy to work with a mindset that stated you could always fall back on your kin's fortune. It wasn't how business worked. It wasn’t how _surviving_ worked. Miss Hoshino learned that firsthand from her own experiences as a ladder climber in the fashion retail business.  
  
She needed him to learn that.  
  
"You're not denying it..." Tate said.  
  
"I do see y/n as a friend. But she could not ever replace you." Miss Hoshino stood up, walked towards him.  
  
"Not when it was you that I birthed, bathed, fed, put to bed, laughed with, argued with..." she kept walking towards him. Reached carefully for the side of his face with a frail hand.  
  
"No one could ever replace you with how much I love you as my son."  
  
Tate didn't look her in the eyes.  
  
"Believe me when I say that everything is going to be fine, even if you don't believe so yourself." She needed to get this through to him, desperately. He did not react further to her words. Did not meet her gaze.  
  
It made her heart bleed.  
  
And it pressed on her soul, the hypocrisy of how she offered someone else financial support not too long ago. It made the skin of her son’s cheek against her hand feel _wrong_.  
  
He left without saying a thing.  
  
Guilt, confusion and uncertainty tore through Miss Hoshino like a rust saw. It made her sink to the floor and shed tears. It made her want to punish herself. It made her want to bring new bruises to her limbs.  
  
_God_ did she feel miserable. She really did live in a box...  
  
~~  
  
At the hostel, Morgana resumed his explanation of current affairs while you, Ann and Ryuji sat on the edges of the beds.  
  
"Okay y/n, this is gonna sound all weird for you, but Akira has a place that we can visit and manipulate in a way so that his distorted desire can be removed."  
  
"......hah?" You were sure to have dots for eyes at this point.  
  
The cat looked troubled, finding it hard to put it in simpler words.  
  
"You mean that Akira has a palace, right?" Ryuji said, hunched forward, intrigued. Ann crossed her arms.  
  
"And you're asking us to help you infiltrate and steal his treasure?" She asked.  
  
What on earth were they talking about?  
  
"So much for explaining things in terms y/n could understand." Morgana said, sighing.  
  
But there was something that clicked inside your head.  
  
"...you mean you can change hearts?" You asked. "Like the Phantom Thieves did ten years ago?"  
  
A silence fell. Morgana began to laugh uncomfortably.  
  
"…Yeah, like those guys! Similar method ahahaha..."  
  
"Oh screw this!" Ryuji swatted with his hand in the air. "We are conversing with a cat about stealing hearts for crying out loud! Might as well admit that we were those Phantom Thieves ten years ago!"  
  
Your eyes widened to the size of saucers.  
  
"You were?!" You asked. No way! Really? You still had posters and merchandise lying about in your apartment. The Phantom Thieves were an obsession of yours when you were in your teens. Your fangirling had slowly declined over the years, but the wonder of it could never fully leave you.  
  
"Were you the one in the cat suit?!" You pointed at Ann.  
  
"That's right!" Ann winked.  
  
"I had the skull." Ryuji bragged. He curved his fingers in front of his eyes, mimicking the old mask.  
  
"Oooh! The one with the bat! Oh my god this can't be real!" You exclaimed beyond excitement. Then something else started to make sense...  
  
  
_"It is out of necessity alone, that I act cruelly."  
  
"And I think you'll believe me rather quickly, y/n."  
  
"Because of whom you named me after. I mean it when I say that I really enjoy stealing." He chuckled.  
_  
  
"Then if Akira used to be your friend...could he also have been...?"  
  
"He was our leader." Morgana said.  
  
"..."  
  
The guy with the black attire and white mask...you associated him with justice, fair retribution, a lobbyist for a peaceful world.  
  
You still felt adoration for this wonder team and leader but...  
  
this leader turned out to be the very same guy who took you from your home. The realization was...  
  
you had no words for it.  
  
_"I'm in."_ Ryuji decided. "I'll help him change."  
  
Morgana stared at him in surprise. He had obviously been preparing himself for refusal.  
  
"Thanks Ryuji... It means a lot to me." Morgana said.  
  
"I'm not doing this for him. I'm doing this for the guy he _used to be_." Ryuji said. "I'll make sure to give him a good beating before he gets his sense back!"  
  
"And Ann?" Hope glistened in Morgana’s eyes.  
  
Ann wasn't crossing her arms as firm anymore.  
  
"I'll do it too...but I wouldn't even be doing this for the old Akira. I just want to make sure he gets his sense back..." She then locked eyes with Ryuji. "...so that Sojiro and everybody else he let down can beat him up with you!"  
  
You grimaced, not particularly inclined to physical retribution.  
  
Morgana was moved nonetheless. "Really guys, it's good to know to have your backs. And y/n...it's going to be dangerous, and I'll explain the details of it later...you coming with us?"  
  
If this Akira’s heart could be changed for the better, he could become the kind of man to help you and give you more information about this freaky ongoing case.  
  
Frankly, you never wanted to run into that guy again.  
  
But you’d be lying to yourself too if you said there hadn’t been snippets of what a gentle, fun and even encouraging person he could be. What if you got to see the whole picture of _that_?  
  
Thinking on it made you regrettably curious...And it wasn’t every day that the_ real _Phantom Thieves offered you to come with them and give you _front seat _at how they changed hearts! It was like a dream come true were it not for the phone feeling heavy in your jeans.  
  
You were to be called by your commissioner in fifteen minutes to give up your location. _Crap. You almost forgot.  
_  
_“Or else news on that old lady won't be pleasant...”_  
  
That was what the man on the phone had threatened you with. You had no choice but to comply, but that would mean putting this group of people in danger too. There may still be other kidnappers after you too.  
  
"It feels like I don't have much else to go for...but can I still think on it?" You asked.  
  
"Of course" the cat said.  
  
Outside, the sky began to darken. Ann decided it was time to put on lights and unpack some of her stuff. The wooden walls were clad with pictures of the mountains from the environment. The bedsheets were patterned with what you’d see on knitted sweaters. The whole of it emitted a false sense of security.  
  
"Can I lend that map Ryuji?" You asked.  
  
"Yeah, here you go." He did not think much of it.  
  
The phone felt even heavier as the seconds ticked by. Your finger quickly traced the river nearby. A kilometer further from here, there was a small bridge that could only be traversed by foot. On the other side of that bridge was a rental for Kayaks.  
  
Your best bet in guaranteeing this group's safety, as well as Miss Hoshino's, was to tell the caller that you were in someplace nearby that you could reach in approximately half an hour. You'd meet your captors on the way, but only you would be the one in danger.  
  
The finger tracing the map was starting to tremble.  
  
"Don't you want to shower?" Ann asked you with a toothbrush in her mouth. There was the smell of fruity shampoo and she had put herself in a satin pajama.  
  
"You can lend my clothes. I think we've got the same size." She offered.  
  
"Thanks, you’re kind… but not yet. I think I'll take a small walk inside the hostel." Ryuji paused in reading his manga, eyeing you in concern.  
  
"Don't worry, I won't be off for long." You lied.  
  
Morgana also began to worry: "I understand you would like some space for yourself…but don’t venture off too far. You're safest if you stick with us, understand?"  
  
_Yeah, but you aren't_, you thought while nodding. It may had been fairer to explain you were going to part with them, but there wasn't much room for explanations when you had so little time left. Plus, it would only be stretched with further dispute.  
  
"I’m off then…" You said, going through the door and closing it behind you. Morgana’s chatty voice was still noticeable behind it: "As of Akira’s palace, you won’t believe what I saw there…"  
  
The hallways of the hostel were old and dark. A renovation would have done the place wonders.  
  
The Hitsuji Kayak rental...you'd tell the caller that you were there. It would be half a lie, because you were now going to make your way over to that place..._in the mist._  
  
The more you thought about it, the more stupid doing this felt.  
  
The pictures on the walls of the hostel indicated that the place used to have a lot of personnel working in the busier seasons. Of all people you saw in the pictures, only the old man you met earlier at the reception was manning the place.  
  
You made your way downstairs, but stopped midway. The phone in your pocket vibrated.  
  
You read the message appearing on display:  
  
_No need to call anymore. Know exactly where you are now._  
  
Your breathing hitched. What was _that_ supposed to mean? Did any of the group that took you in _actually betray you?_  
  
No...it must have been...  
  
The whole of your body froze in place at the realization.  
  
_"Ah, there you are..."_ Came a rasping voice from above you. At the top of the stairs was the receptionist.  
  
Earlier he looked like an old klutz with no plan about his actions,  
  
but now he was standing with a straight spine, eerily composed and looming from up high with the light against his back.  
  
Every step he then took forward was fright-inducing.  
  
Every step you took backward made the stairs creak in a high pitch.  
  
"Is there anything I can do for you?" The man asked.  
  
You merely shook your head. Not taking your eyes off of him. Your feet reached the end of the flight.  
  
"You know, young lady...you have the face of someone who would be a sincere listener. It makes me want to tell you a little of my own personal woes..." he spoke.  
  
"r-Really now?" You laughed, while still slowly distancing yourself from him.  
  
"Oh yes. I've been despairing the last couple of years..." He kept advancing towards you, eventually coming at level. He slid his calloused fingers over one of the photographs on the wall in nostalgia. He stilled like the photograph itself. After what felt like a century, his voice came out heavy:  
  
"This place used to be burning with _life_. Even in off-seasons like these, there would be way more people than just you and your group of friends...I had to fire my employees. One. By. One." He punctuated on the impact it must’ve had on him.  
  
"That's...rough." You brought over your lips, and wondered anxiously whether the others could hear this. You knew where this was going. Your senses were heightened. You were ready to flee.  
  
"I love this place...if only I had money for renovation. I'm sure people would come visit again. But I could only sell the place...It breaks my heart."  
  
He tilted his head. Revealing his icy blue eyes from the shine in his glasses. Penetrating you with a gaze full of a blunt, dark intent...  
  
"...that was until today. When I received a phone call. It was a simple request with a generous reward. It would put my troubles to an end."  
  
You looked behind you. Through the hall, past the reception was the door leading to the outside.  
  
He had both cloth and rope in his hands. You swore yourself you would hand yourself over to the first threat you'd meet. For Hoshino's sake.  
  
But instinct had other plans and made you run for it. You couldn't help it. It was something in the man's eyes.  
  
They told you he was going to be cruel beyond necessity.  
  
You fled towards the door, and estimated in time that you couldn't open it without him getting his hands on you. So you ducked lightning fast, making him crash through his own speed into the front door. A sickening crack sounded.  
  
"Argh!"  
  
You bolted in another direction, towards the hallway in hope for another door to the outside. You went for the drawing room. It was as if time itself sped up. You rattled violently at the door. No use.  
  
You flit your head behind you.  
  
The old man had broken his nose. One circlet of his glasses was broken, making his gaze look deranged. They promised _vengeance_ for what you just caused him.  
  
If you wanted to get out of this room, you would have to make a diagonal dash towards the main hallway again and guess another way to the outside. But that would mean he'd line towards you in a _shorter distance_.  
  
Knowing full well of your problem, the man bared his browned teeth in a sickening grin. He stayed in place, waiting for you to advance. The blood running from his nose lined on through his teeth, chin and beard.  
  
You couldn't bear the tension. There was no cutlery to grab from the tables. Nothing to fend off with.  
  
_Am I wanted alive?_  
  
Now more than ever, you were asking yourself that question.  
  
Fear made the air smell toxic.  
  
Through his impatience, the man stepped forward.  
  
You waited for him to come midway, until you finally made the dash.  
  
In an instant, he almost had you. You felt by the sway of your hair that he barely managed to grab it.  
  
You guessed in a second that the door on the other side of the hallway must be closed off too. So you fled for the door signed: kitchen. All kitchens in public instances had an entrance to the outside for easy garbage disposal.  
  
You pummeled into the shining, reflecting space that was the kitchen and made no hesitation to grab for a knife from the wall.  
  
The corners of your eyes watered. This could be the end. You took turn around a corner in search for the promising door. But found no such thing yet.  
  
You looked behind you, only to find you were truly cornered now.  
  
Your stomach hollowed.  
  
The man had a pole in his hand, broken from a broom. Even if you were armed now, the longer weapon would prove a difference.  
  
The man laughed. The sound of it grated your ears. You held your knife up in trembling hands. Knew you couldn't do this. _You were no killer… _The man advanced. You eyed the sharp broken points of the pole. Your fight or flight response seemed to have been replaced with _dead paralysis_.  
  
So this was it. This was as far as you would get to experience this life of yours.  
  
"RAAAHHH!" The man lunged forward.  
  
You shut your eyes, braced yourself for impact.  
  
  
  
  
  
Nothing came.  
  
  
  
  
  
You opened your eyes again. Then saw that the man had slumped to his knees. He fell face down onto the floor.  
  
Above him was a cloth held in a red gloved hand. You brought your gaze more up.  
  
Of all the people to have come to your aid.  
  
It was almost hilarious...  
  
_His_ grey eyes looked at you in both concern and frustration.  
  
The air wore a silence of a thousand heart attacks. Thinking came difficult to you. Too many things had happened over the course of the past ten minutes. Your hands holding the knife shook noticeably.  
  
His gaze softened.  
  
He stepped over the receptionist, advancing, then stopped at half an arm’s length from you. He leisurely laid his hands over your fingers clutching the knife.  
  
"Now you see what happens when you leave my sight."  
  
He brought down the weapon. Unburdened your fingers from it. Then held your hand. The warmth anchored you to him.  
  
"Come." He turned around, and escorted you out of the hostel, all the while keeping your hand firmly in his. You complied silently, dulled. Words were lost to you as the both of you disappeared into the mist outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't help envisioning the receptionist as captain Birdseye.
> 
> Also, here a selfpainted visual teaser of things to come: https://twitter.com/Omunice1/status/1355642498283089920?s=09


End file.
